


In Lumine Spectatoris

by cutiesonthehorizon



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Demons, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, In a way, Kid Fic, M/M, young!Tomas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-06 10:55:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 110,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15884625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutiesonthehorizon/pseuds/cutiesonthehorizon
Summary: Tomas wasn't a normal boy. He was fifteen, had a tragic past and oh yes, he saw things that other people didn't. He was at the end of his rope when the new substitute teacher stepped into the classroom and Tomas's world turned upside down. A story in which Marcus and Peter live happily together, Tomas is in desperate need of help and demons are real. AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been brewing for a long time. It took me over three months to write and another three to get up the courage to post it. It is the longest fic I've ever written, a little bit over 110000 words in total. It's finished however, so chapters should be uploaded regularly. First few chapters are beta-read by the wonderful Vshendria and I want to thank her for her support and advice during the creative process. I also want to thank all the folks over at the exorcist discord server who encouraged me to write and finish this beast as well as to Gaia who helped with the Latin and some other stuff:)
> 
> Fair warning: this story contains minimum smut, lots of angst, some action and plenty of comfort. All mistakes, whether grammar, plot wise or technical/medical are mine only. You're welcome to point them out, just be gentle please:)That's about it. I hope you enjoy the story and maybe leave a comment for a starving author;)

Peter woke to the smell of fried bacon, eggs and beans. It was a bit of a strange combination, but Peter had gotten used to it. He'd learned quite early on that it was one of Marcus's comfort foods—that and coffee that could melt asphalt.

Peter ran his hand over the already cold spot Marcus had occupied last night and looked at the clock. It was a bit earlier than they usually woke up which, combined with the sounds coming from the kitchen, meant that Marcus was indeed nervous. For a moment Peter wondered whether his partner had even slept.

With a sigh, Peter rolled out of the bed and went downstairs and into the kitchen. Marcus's old cassette player was blasting The Daylighters. Marcus was standing by the stove, putting the last of the bacon on a plate. His body was moving in rhythm with the music and Peter could hear a soft humming. Smiling, he moved across the kitchen silent as a cat, grabbing Marcus around the waist from behind. Something must've announced his arrival though, because Marcus didn't even startle. He just twisted his head around for a kiss and leaned back against the firm body of his partner.

"What gave me away?" Peter asked, putting his chin on Marcus's shoulder and taking in the smell of the bacon.

"I saw your reflection in the window." Marcus pointed with his spatula and chuckled. "You were lucky too. I would've probably elbowed you if you startled me like that from behind."

"You never did before," Peter protested and grabbed a piece of toast. Marcus turned the stove off and leaned against the counter facing Peter with a smirk.

"Well, you've never been great at sneaking around."

"Maybe I just wasn't trying."

"Good. Keep it that way, then. I hate surprises."

"You didn't say that last time I got you a present." Peter wiggled his eyebrows and Marcus chuckled.

"I still saw it coming a mile away. But I appreciate the effort, really. Breakfast?" Marcus lifted a plate filled with food and enticingly waved it in front of Peter's face.

"Mm hmm... that's the only reason I got up this early," Peter admitted, grabbing the plate and putting it on the table, then turned back to Marcus who was still leaning against the stove with a small smirk on his face.

"Now, I can only guess why you woke up before the alarm." Peter stepped in next to Marcus, their sides brushing as he reached for the coffee pot and poured himself some rocket fuel. Marcus shrugged, arms crossed over his chest.

"I didn't peg you for someone who'd get nervous about the first day at a new job," Peter said as he leaned against the counter, his side pressed close to his partner, while he sipped at the coffee.

"I'm not nervous," Marcus half-heartedly protested. "Just... not used to being around so many people at once. Or... since my time at the boys' home."

Peter nodded, eyes understanding but also curious.

"I would've thought that as a priest you had to say a mass or something. With an audience."

"I was a bit... stage shy," Marcus admitted and Peter was amused to see a slight blush creeping into his cheeks. He had to stop himself from leaning in and kissing him, just because he knew it would lead to something else and right now Marcus needed to talk.

"You stage shy? Hard to believe." Peter smiled and Marcus gave him a look.

"I was more of a one-on-one priest... or exorcist. The powers-that-be realized it quickly enough after I choked on two sermons. Adjustments were made and I could focus on what I was good at."

"Getting the world rid of demons and putting your own soul at risk," Peter added softly and wasn't at all surprised to see the wistful look on Marcus's face. Peter gritted his teeth, his free hand seeking Marcus's palm.

He knew Marcus's past was a touchy subject and that included his vocation. He had been an exorcist since he was twelve, a fact that never ceased to amaze Peter as well as make his heart clench in horror. He couldn't even imagine what it must've been like and he didn't want to. Marcus had spent twenty years working for the Church and God, trying to repent for his sin, for shooting his own father. Twenty long years of self-sacrifice and being led by God's voice, until one day Marcus made a mistake and a young boy died. Maybe he could have overcome the loss if not for the fact that God stopped talking to him as well. What was left behind was a shell of a man.

At the age of thirty-three, Marcus Keane had been reduced to a man with neither faith nor hope, stuck in St. Aquinas Rest Home by the order of the Church. It was either that, and days spent in "therapy sessions" with other lost priests, or leaving the Church altogether. For a man who had spent most of his life under the auspices of the Church, leaving hadn't been an option. After all, what good was an exorcist who had lost the voice of God and his faith? He was useless, just an empty vessel, used up and broken. He had nowhere to go.

This was the man whom Peter had encountered on a warm summer day while visiting a friend. Jim had been an army medic and had served alongside Peter for two tours in Afghanistan before being shot in the leg and discharged from the army. After all the horror he'd seen, Jim turned towards religion and became a priest and by some twist of fate ended up working at St. Aquinas, helping out other priests suffering from PTSD. Peter occasionally wondered what might have happened to those priests but he didn't really dare to ask.

Peter could remember that day clearly...enjoying the fresh air, walking down an alley lined with trees near the barracks serving as apartments, talking to Jim about common friends from their tour. Jim's leg wound still flared up from time to time and when Peter noted his friend's limp becoming more pronounced, he led them to a nearby bench. Peter listened to his friend, his eyes roaming.

The place brought out strange feelings. On one hand, it was calm and peaceful; everything seemed to be created to relax the eye and the soul. On the other hand, the men promenading about the grounds were giving Peter the creeps. Old men, young men, walking in small groups, silent, with dead eyes. It was disconcerting to say the least. Peter's focus turned towards another small group, who were clearly attending some kind of therapy. Five men were sitting in a circle on the grass, doing breathing exercises, taking turns talking, each with a rosary in hand. Peter knew he should have looked away; he was feeling like a voyeur. He didn't belong here; he shouldn't watch these broken men struggling with their faith and their conscience.

Except not all of those men were old.

He was sitting with legs crossed under him, in stark contrast to the other men. The rosary was laid on the grass next to him and his hands were occupied with paper and pencil, drawing slow lines. Peter would've thought him to be the therapist, but judging by the annoyed look on another man's face who was also holding a notepad and a pen, the younger one was simply ignoring the session and doing his own thing. And Peter knew he was much younger than the rest of them even though he couldn't see his face. The cropped tuft of dirty blonde hair shone in the sun like a halo and Peter couldn't pull his gaze away. Something about the man just called out to him.

As if feeling his gaze, the man lifted his head and looked straight at Peter. Their eyes locked and the man frowned, the pencil in his hand wavering, mouth parting in silent question. Peter swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. The man was the first one to break eye contact. He resumed his drawing but Peter kept watching him and saw the occasional covert glances thrown his way, as if checking he was still there.

"You should be careful about that one," Jim warned with a soft smile, and Peter startled. He had totally forgotten that he wasn't alone.

"Sorry. What?"

Jim chuckled.

"That guy you're eyeing. He's a difficult man. His story is complicated and sad."

Peter wasn't even trying to pretend he didn't know which person Jim was talking about. Instead he looked back towards the man on the grass, just in time to catch a quick glance his way, and he felt a shiver run down his spine.

"Who is he?"

"Father Marcus Keane."

"How long has he been here? And... why?" Peter asked, knowing full well that St. Aquinas wasn't just a sanctuary for broken, burned out priests but also a box in which the Church could lock up the deviant ones. He didn't think the man in front of him was either of those. He knew it in his gut. Still, he was an ex-soldier himself and Intel was key in any mission.

Jim's mouth twisted in a grimace.

"He's an exorcist. He was brought in last year, after a case went horribly wrong and a child died. "

Peter blinked.

"Are you serious?" He wasn't a big believer, verging on being an atheist, but he could usually accept that people believed what they believed. However, he thought the notion of demons in real life was preposterous.

His friend just shrugged.

"He's a soldier, Peter, just like you."

"I'm not a soldier anymore," Peter quickly corrected, then shook his head. It didn't matter anyway. Be he an exorcist or not, as a priest Marcus Keane was bound by his vows to God. And what were the chances that he would return Peter's interest? Peter was just fooling himself in thinking maybe he'd found someone who could bring some light into his life.

Peter could feel Jim's eyes on him and realized that he was being very obvious. Blinking, Peter turned his attention back to Jim and let Marcus Keane slip from his mind; at least that's what he was trying to pretend. He was acutely aware of the moment when the therapy session ended and the men from the group dispersed. Well, all but the one who stayed sitting on the grass, doodling. The only difference was that he was now slightly turned, keeping Peter in his line of sight. As if that wasn't enough of a sign, Marcus looked right at Peter and turned the page on his sketchpad so now he had a fresh sheet in front of him. Peter bit his bottom lip and Jim chuckled.

Peter barely noticed the reaction, his attention elsewhere. He didn't feel self-conscious, after all Jim was quite aware of his orientation. There was no need to hide anything.

However, when Jim gave an exaggerated groan and stood up, Peter turned back to him with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm sorry to cut our visit short, Peter, but I need to prepare some material for my own group of misfits. It was lovely to see you and don't be a stranger, okay?"

Peter stood up as well and hugged his friend, saying his goodbyes and promising to return in a few weeks when he had business trip planned in the area. The priest nodded and slowly headed back towards the barracks. Peter stood there, suddenly bereft and wondering just what he was supposed to do. His mind told him to walk towards his car and mind his own business, but his heart and gut were pulling him towards the figure on the grass. The figure that was now sitting frozen as a statue, eyes locked somewhere near Peter's feet. The pencil in his hand wasn't moving.

Peter took in a deep breath and let it out. He knew if he left without a word he would regret it. It was always easier to regret the things you didn't do rather than those you did. In the end, there was really nothing to lose. Peter steeled himself for rejection and stepped on the soft grass, adrenaline pumping through his veins as if he was going to war.

He stopped a few feet away from Marcus, his eyes pausing at the half done sketch of the bench with a familiar figure sitting on it. He wanted to introduce himself coherently. Instead, the first thing that came out of his mouth was, "Am I that good looking?"

Perhaps it was the right thing to say. Marcus Keane looked up, eyebrows raised and the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smile. That was the moment Peter realized he was lost.

Much later, when Marcus packed up his meager possessions and walked away from the Church, right into Peter's waiting arms, Peter jokingly repeated the question.

"Am I really that good looking?" The real meaning of the question was  _Do you think I'm worth it? To leave this all behind_? And just like then, Marcus looked into his eyes and said, "Yes."

* * *

That had been almost a year ago. Since then many things had changed for the two men, starting with their living situation and ending with the fact that Marcus was still bereft, trying to figure out what he should be doing next. For a while, it was okay. Marcus had needed time to heal, to find his footing in the world that wasn't running according to the rules of the Church. There were many nightmares and a few meltdowns, but soon Marcus started looking outside of the bubble that was their little household. When he found his first job it was hard manual labor for a moving company and Peter knew that Marcus enjoyed every minute of it. He came home covered in sweat and dead tired, but with a clear head and even though he griped about his whole body protesting, the next day he woke up with a fresh mind and went to work with a smile. At the same time, Marcus kept searching for a job that would bring him the same sense of purpose that being an exorcist had. For a time he didn't have much luck in that department... there was only so much satisfaction from physical labor. Building houses was good for the mind, while helping out at a homeless shelter was good for the soul. But Peter knew from the late night talks they had in bed that neither of those filled the void the Church had left behind.

"Maybe teaching will do the trick," Peter said as he was brought back to the present by the nudge of Marcus's hand and eyes..

"Which trick would that be?"

"Helping you get rid of your stage fright," Peter answered with a smile, and sipped at his coffee.

"I really think I'd rather face a demon than a bunch of hormonal teenagers," Marcus sighed. Secretly Peter had to agree with that sentiment; however, he wasn't about to voice it.

"I, for one, feel much better about you facing the teenagers. It's... safer."

Marcus snorted.

"You clearly haven't met that many teenagers."

Peter shrugged.

"Not since I being one myself," he admitted, then pulled Marcus's hand, still clutched in his own, to his mouth. He gave it a kiss. "But I trust your ability to command a room. Or, you know... become one of them. I already have to remind you to keep your feet off the table, use a coaster and throw your laundry in the basket instead of the floor."

"It sounds as if you aren't appreciating all my charming qualities," Marcus groused but his eyes were twinkling with mirth. Peter smiled, mission accomplished.

"Why don't we start on that breakfast? I know you wanted to go in a bit early so Roger could give you the rundown on your new class."

Marcus sighed and pulled Peter into an embrace, putting his half empty coffee mug on the counter.

"You owe me for this one. While breaking my back by lugging furniture or doing floor work wasn't my dream job, I'm starting to wonder if it wasn't safer than facing those little devils."

"Well, maybe I want you to come back home smelling fresh once in a while? And not griping about sore muscles. Maybe spending some time around the younger generation will give you more energy."

"Blasphemy!" Marcus smacked Peter on his backside. "I have more energy than you know what to do with." Marcus wriggled his eyebrows and moved his hips provocatively. Peter laughed, pushing him towards the table.

"Easy tiger. Save it for later. I have a feeling you'll be singing a different tune when you get home today."

"Spoil sport," Marcus grumbled and sat down, starting on his breakfast. Peter sat down next to him and they ate in a companionable silence to the accompaniment of Marcus's cassette player. Peter hoped with all his heart that this would be the way they would spend the rest of their days. Together, deep in love and at peace with the world. He hoped it would stay that way forever.

* * *

"I know this was pretty much at the last second, Mr. Keane, so I really appreciate you taking this job."

Roger Stanley, the principal of the Bridget's high school, shook Marcus's hand and pointed him towards the chair. It was good that the man had a welcoming smile on his face; otherwise Marcus would have been reminded of all the times he ended up in the principal's office as a child. Every time such a visit had occurred, Marcus had walked out sore, because back then being sent to the principal at a Catholic school meant only one thing. Marcus had often found himself on the receiving end of a wooden ruler or with knees bruised from all the kneeling. He remembered clutching the rosary and repeating Hail Maries until his throat was hoarse. It had always struck him as pretty antithetical for any so-called Christian man to take such pleasure in torturing children.

Shaking off the memories, Marcus gave a tentative smile, his eyes taking in Roger's office. He would have loved to walk around, to touch and feel random items on the shelf, assessing, trying to figure out the person in front of him. But that had been his modus operandi as an exorcist, his approach to finding a way to know the person he was trying to help. There was no need for that now so Marcus settled in the chair, trying to look relaxed even though his body wanted to fidget.

"Did you get all the material you'll need for this month?"

"Yes, the package arrived a few days ago. It seems your students are a bit more advanced in Latin than usual for public school."

"They sure are," Roger said with a proud smile, leaning back in his seat. "Our school is one of the few that are competing in the Certamen. We haven't won yet, but we only participated twice so far and I'm confident that next year we can win."

"That's impressive," Marcus muttered, knowing well that the Certamen competition was quite prestigious and nothing to scoff at. It required a lot of knowledge, not only about the Latin language but also Roman history, mythology and more. Good memory, a talent for languages and a quick wit were a must.

"Yes. We are working very hard to steer our students the right way. If we get good prestige from the competition, we become eligible for more programs that will help the school. This is not a rich neighborhood as you surely noticed, Mr. Keane. Most of these kids aren't trying to get into good colleges. I will be happy if I can manage to get most of these students to graduation. Many kids drop out. But there are a few who show promise and could go on the higher education."

Marcus nodded. He knew the neighborhood; he also knew that Roger kindly had left out the high odds that some of those kids would fall prey to drugs or crime. Marcus thought they should be trying to encourage everyone, not just the prodigies, but he was also aware of the reality. If nothing else, the past few months he'd spent helping out at a homeless shelter had opened his eyes to the world beyond the protected sameness of the Church.

"With what you just told me, I'm surprised you'd even consider hiring me. I don't have any teaching experience, after all."

"That might be," Roger admitted, though there was an amused twinkle in his eyes. Marcus was becoming more relaxed by the minute, especially as the man in front of him reminded him less and less of his past experience in Catholic school. "But you came highly recommended by Father Sebastian. He said you were tutoring kids at the shelter. He also assured me you have a far better understanding of Latin, its history and several other ancient languages than anyone he's ever met."

Marcus inclined his head, letting out a sigh. Of course Father Sebastian would give him glowing reviews. The man had been trying to steer him towards working with children since the first time Marcus managed to calm a screaming five-year-old-tearing through the shelter while his mother had been trying to figure out where they would sleep after being evicted from their home.

"Mr. Keane—" Roger began, but Marcus stopped him with a raised hand.

"Please, call me Marcus. I'm not much for formalities."

"In that case, call me Roger." Roger smiled, then turned serious. "I'm aware we can't expect any miracles from you, even though I'm sure you'll do just fine. Teaching takes some experience, especially where teenagers are concerned. But unfortunately our Latin teacher had an ugly accident and will need several months to recuperate. It is almost the end of the school year and there's really not that many people with a solid knowledge of Latin who are willing to sub in on such short notice."

"I understand. And if I'm correct, the Certamen competition for this year is already over?"

"Yes... and no. We're already trying to prepare for next year. There is a study group that we'd like you to take over for the time being. It would be low pressure, the students will be all seniors next year and they mostly have their study plans set. Here's some of the material our last teacher used." Roger pushed over a thick folder and Marcus internally groaned. It looked like he had plenty of reading to catch up on and he hadn't even officially started work yet. Roger gave him an apologetic smile.

"I know, believe me. It might seem like a lot at once, but I'm sure you'll get into the swing of it quickly."

"Not seeing any other option," Marcus muttered and took the materials, though he didn't look at them. He saw Roger taking in a deep breath in preparation for another speech and prompted, "There's something else."

Roger paused then chuckled, and Marcus waited for the other shoe to drop.

"I know I might be asking a bit much, and I'll understand if you just tell me to stuff it."

"Go on, hit me," Marcus said with a smirk, and Roger nodded.

"We have another student here, a junior, who is showing great promise. You'll meet him soon, I think you have him in your second period. His name is Tomas Ortega."

"Go on."

"We would like him to compete next year, although we haven't managed to persuade him yet. Perhaps you might try to focus on him a bit?"

Marcus raised an eyebrow, because the request sounded just a bit strange. For some reason, Roger looked a bit uncomfortable. "What's the matter with him?" Marcus asked outright and Roger sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"He's a troubled young man. This year he lost both his grandmother and his mother. He had to transfer from a Catholic school in Mexico here to Chicago to live with his older sister. It's... a lot for a young boy. Tomas is very intelligent and a very nice kid, but... I'm worried he might... get lost."

Marcus frowned.

"Is he involved with a bad crowd?"

"No, quite the opposite. He has some health issues and they make him a bit of a pariah. I don't know him that well, but... he excels in all his classes and he's a good kid. He just needs some guidance."

"So you think that getting involved in such a high stress competition would help?" Marcus looked doubtful. "And what health issues are we talking about?" Marcus knew that there were certain issues that might cause one kid to ostracize another, although he'd thought that there would be less bullying these days. Obviously he was mistaken.

"Tomas sometimes suffers from episodes. It's nothing serious, but it looks... scary. The other kids fixate on that and I'm afraid that, despite our no bullying policy, Tomas might become a victim if something doesn't change."

"And you think that making him part of the Latin team would help with his popularity?" Marcus asked a bit doubtfully.

"It won't hurt. It would at least give him a way out in the future. He will need to apply for scholarships sooner or later. I was just hoping we could provide him with some personal attention."

"Why do you think I'll be able to help him? By the sound of it the kid needs a counselor and some normal friends. Not a substitute teacher of Latin."

"You were a priest, Marcus," Roger said frankly, and Marcus tried not to jerk at the word. He didn't need to be reminded of his past and Roger obviously didn't have all the facts. Marcus never really considered himself to be a priest, but an exorcist. There was a distinct difference. But Marcus wasn't about to explain, so he just motioned for Roger to continue.

"Tomas grew up in a very religious family. Some... familiarity with the subject and one-on- one attention might help."

"I'm not a priest anymore," Marcus stated, his voice a bit tight.

"Pardon me, Marcus, but being a priest is not something that you simply forget. You spent many years of your life helping people, listening to what ails them, absolving them of their sins. I think you might to do more good for the soul than a psychotherapist prescribing drugs."

Marcus frowned. Roger's stance on the subject was rather unorthodox for a school principal and Marcus was wondering just how much of a believer the man really was. He couldn't see a cross anywhere, not in the office, not on Roger's body as jewelry, but that wasn't all that surprising. Most public schools nowadays frowned heavily upon any religious symbols on display. While Marcus had an inkling to ask the principal about his personal beliefs, he rather decided not to, as it might steer them just a bit off topic.

Marcus sighed and straightened a bit on his chair.

"You know you're asking quite a lot from someone without direct experience, right?"

Roger smiled.

"What can I say? You came highly recommended."

Marcus frowned at that, not sure just why Father Sebastian's opinion would have much weight in the circles of public high schools.

"I'm not promising anything," he said finally, tucking the thick folder under his arm. "But I'll at least try to talk to him. I will have to, after all, he is in my class." He stood and Roger followed suit, looking almost relieved.

"That's all I'm asking. If you'll need anything, my door is always open."

Marcus nodded. He was at the door when Roger cleared his throat, as if he wanted to add something.

"Any other lost souls in need of saving?" Marcus asked a bit sarcastically.

"For the time being, let's see how you do with this first one, shall we?" Roger replied with a smile that sent chills down Marcus's spine. In that moment the sun shone through the window at such a strange angle that Roger was backlit and Marcus wondered if any of their conversation had been real, if it had all been a dream. He blinked and the room was normal again, and Roger just a friendly administrator looking out for his pupils. Marcus nodded, a bit disconcerted.

"Good luck, Marcus," Roger said as he walked out the door.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Tomas was tired. It was nothing new, really. Ever since he'd arrived in Chicago his energy levels had been low. It was as if the city itself was sapping him of life. Of course, maybe it was just part of the mourning. He had lost both his Abuela and his mother within two months and, while each woman meant something different in his life, each had been important. The double loss was like a huge snake nesting inside his chest, causing pain whenever something woke it up and eating any other emotion he could've felt.

The "episodes" and the subsequent nightmares weren't helping either. Back in Mexico he used to have friends. Back in Mexico, even in a small stuffy apartment he shared with his strict Abuela, he had been happy. There were barely any episodes, he had soccer practice and the church choir could be fun too, especially when they managed to sneak into Father Abrego's office and "borrow" some altar wine.

Tomas was trying to keep his head above water, for Olivia if nothing else. He knew that his giving up would hurt her so he tried everything in his power to pretend. Pretend that he was doing alright, that he had friends or at least had tried to make some. Pretend that the nightmares weren't destroying his soul piece by piece and that he wasn't using the library as his sanctuary to get some sleep here and there. These days, Tomas felt there was nothing of him left, just the pretense. Worse, it didn't even scare him anymore. He just went with the flow, hoping that sooner rather than later all of it would go away and he would feel normal again. Maybe if he worked his ass off at school, he could get a scholarship and leave this city behind.

Tomas rested his head in his palms on top of his desk, hearing students chatting around him before the start of Latin class. He caught his name, that familiar adjective they liked to use to describe him, and a chuckle. He ignored it all, even though he felt the snake inside his chest curl up just a bit tighter.

The class hushed, which meant their new teacher just arrived. Tomas raised his head. He wondered who it would be and if they would at least teach at a faster as opposed to the deathly slow Mr. Andrews. Tomas wouldn't have minded someone a bit more upbeat. Their Latin class was at the end of the school day and Tomas often found himself having trouble staying awake to the droning of Mr. Andrews.

That wouldn't be a problem this time, Tomas quickly realized as he spotted their new teacher. He was a young man, much younger than Mr. Andrews. He had a buzz cut and a moustache that should've looked weird, but didn't. The man walked in with a swagger and Tomas heard the girls in the class go silent in appreciation, then let out a collective, awe-filled sigh. The boys paused in whatever they were doing, and somehow grudgingly settled in behind their desks.

The teacher walked up to the chalkboard and wrote:  **Marcus Keane**.

"For anyone curious, it is 'Mr. Keane' or 'Sir' for now. We might get to 'Marcus' if you survive this month," the new teacher announced with a grin, his British accent clear as day, the voice carrying with some indefinable strength. Tomas saw the air shimmer with each syllable and he had to make an effort to focus on the words. The snake inside Tomas's chest that was constantly there gave one harsh squeeze then became still. It was like the warmth emanating from 'Mr. Keane' put the snake to sleep and the sudden relief from the pressure caused Tomas to take in a surprised breath.

"Because it's my first day with you, I'd like to take attendance. Your principal gave me this very nifty list, so just wave when you hear your name."

Marcus Keane started calling out students and one by one they waved and said "here", until he reached Tomas's name.

"Tomas Ortega?"

Tomas couldn't move. His eyes were glued to the man in front of him who was shining with such a bright light that it made Tomas squint. His mind was in turmoil and he was probably looking ridiculous with his mouth slightly open, but Tomas couldn't care less. The man before him emitted such warmth that Tomas felt some of the Chicago's chill melting away from his bones, just from his presence in the room.

"Tomas Ortega. Is he missing?" Mr. Keane repeated his question.

Tomas was pulled out of his trance when an eraser hit the back of his head. "Hey,  _freak,_  that's you. Wave and stop staring!"

The hiss came from the seat behind him and Tomas winced. He managed to wave his hand and croak out: "Here, sir."

The teacher's eyes narrowed and Tomas felt a pang of regret that he had once again messed up. That was, until he realized the teacher wasn't glaring at him but at the student sitting right behind him. The one who had called him a freak.

"Let's make one thing clear, Mr. Jones. There will be no name calling in this class. If you want to swear at your fellow students, I expect it to be in perfect Latin, preferably with a two page essay explaining the origin and meaning behind the word. Is that understood?"

Mr. Keane said this calmly with a smile on his face, yet the class went silent, as the warm blue eyes went icy. Tomas swallowed and Andy Jones behind him stuttered an apology. Mr. Keane grinned, the ice relenting as though it had never been there in the first place. Tomas could almost see the wave of relief rushing through the class.

"Perfect! Let's continue then, shall we? Nadia Rishnewski?"

"Here, sir."

Once the attendance was taken, Keane paused to look over the class, taking in all their faces. Tomas wasn't sure but he thought that the teacher paused a moment longer when looking his way, though that might've been just his imagination. Or sleep deprivation. The class was strangely silent and Marcus Keane didn't seem to be bothered by it at all. He picked up the book they were studying, opened it to a random page, then with a grimace snapped it closed and put it back on his desk.

"Okay, seeing as this is our first class together, let's give the book a rest. No tests today, no quizzes. Just talk. I want to learn what you know. So tell me few things about yourself, hobbies, pets, name of your current crush." At that he winked and several of the girls giggled. "Use the vocabulary you already have."

Marcus Keane sat on the top of his desk, long legs dangling, hands playing with a pen as if he couldn't be still for even a second.

"Let's start with you, Nadia, shall we?" he said with a smile. Nadia, in the first row, cleared her throat and struggled to find the right words.

Tomas wasn't paying attention to her botched Latin. Instead he focused on his new teacher. Now that he had a chance to breathe he could tone down the light and the colors surrounding the man. He still enjoyed the warmth and, every time the teacher spoke to correct Nadia or ask her a question, Tomas felt a bit calmer. Which in turn helped him to focus on what was going on around him.

He noticed the sound of a phone buzzing at about the same time as Mr. Keane. Tomas didn't turn, didn't have to. He knew which of his classmates constantly left their cell phone on to text with his girlfriend. Marcus Keane either had great hearing or he was paying much more attention to the class than he appeared to; even at a low buzz, the phone was audible to him. He jumped off the table and made it across the classroom to the boy sitting at the last corner desk before the boy could even try to hide his phone. The man swiftly plucked it out of his hands and put it in his pocket.

"You'll get this back at the end of the class. Now you can stand up and introduce yourself," Marcus said with a smile.

The rest of the hour passed quickly, too quickly for Tomas's liking. For once, he truly enjoyed the class and he worried that the moment he left the room, the crippling depression would awaken and take him again. But there was nothing he could do about it. When the class was dismissed and Tomas was passing by the teacher, for a second it looked like the man wanted to speak to him. Tomas swallowed, slowing down a bit, barely hiding his sudden anxiety. It must've shown on his face, Tomas thought and just like that, the moment passed.

"Goodbye, sir," Tomas muttered and beat a hasty retreat as soon as Marcus gave him a returning nod. He could feel the warmth of a curious stare on his back all the way home.

* * *

It was nearing the end of the lunch break and Marcus was stretched out on his chair. He had spent the last half hour reading up on the materials for the special study group and felt like he would get cross-eyed if he had to stare at the page any longer. His next period was luckily free but then he had back-to-back classes that he was already cringing about. There were tests to be given, which meant he had to walk around the class and monitor for cheating. Piece of cake in this age of modern technology, Marcus thought with a snort. After the tests were collected, he would, of course, have to grade them, which meant no free afternoon and coming home maybe later than Peter.

With a sigh, Marcus rose from the chair and walked towards the open window. It seemed spring was finally in full force in Chicago as this was one of the first warm and sunny days in a long time. Marcus looked down at the school grounds, his eyes perusing the little clumps of kids, some eating, some staring into their cell phones… some trying to hide a smoke behind a tree. He was about to turn back and maybe grab some food from the cafeteria as well, his stomach grumbling, when he spotted a lonely figure by the basketball court. Then, not so lonely, as two more boys approached. Marcus gritted his teeth at the unprovoked tousling; it went on until Tomas adopted a fighting stance and his two attackers decided they'd had enough fun.

Maybe he could get some fresh air before lunch, Marcus thought, and headed down towards the court. Tomas Ortega was indeed an enigma to him. So far, Marcus had had the pleasure of seeing him in three classes. Twice in Latin and once for Spanish. Of course Tomas didn't really need the Spanish class; he could've slept through it and still gotten the credit. And maybe that had been his original plan, until Marcus had walked into the room.

Marcus had been watching the class from behind the door for a minute before making his entrance and even though he had other things to focus on, he saw the difference in Tomas's attitude the second he stepped into the room. The boy blinked and squinted, as if fighting off a headache, but after a moment his face went slack and his shoulders relaxed. As the hour progressed, Marcus noticed how Tomas paid uncanny attention to every word that left his mouth, even though the boy must've known the subject by heart. The small smile on the boy's face when they finished made Marcus's own heart feel warmer. Tomas seemed to linger, just as in the previous classes, but the second that Marcus opened his mouth and was about to ask him a question, Tomas beat a hasty retreat

That made it just a little bit difficult to start a conversation about possible tutoring. Roger had mentioned it again in the faculty break room, but Marcus had made it clear that he wanted to find his footing first.

But a week had passed now. Maybe it was the right time.

Marcus proceeded to the school grounds, his eyes instinctively seeking the boys who had harassed Tomas. When he found one of them necking with a girl behind the trash bins, he was more than happy to grab him by the scruff, pull him off and send him right to the principal's office. Usually he would have just separated the two love birds and went on his merry way, .but he didn't like bullies and he couldn't shove nettles down their pants without being accused of harassment, so the principal's office seemed like the next best choice.

Tomas was still by the basketball court, absentmindedly kicking the soccer ball against the nearby wall. He didn't seem to notice Marcus until he had walked up behind him.

"Nice leg work." Marcus spoke casually, hoping not to startle the kid. No such luck. Tomas spun around, eyes a bit wide and his right hand curling into a fist.

Marcus held out both hands and smiled.

"Hey, I mean no harm."

Tomas flushed.

"Sorry, I was just surprised."

Marcus nodded towards the ball.

"I haven't seen anyone play football around here before. I loved it back in England."

A look of surprise passed Tomas's face.

"You play football?"

"I used to… haven't kicked a ball in some time now, though. It's not exactly a popular sport here in the States."

Tomas snorted in agreement.

"Yeah. If it's not American football or baseball, it's not worth mentioning."

"Mind if I join you? We still have some time before the break is over and I need to stretch my legs. All that sitting behind a desk is murder on the back."

Tomas raised an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth twitched, but he managed not to smile outright. Marcus didn't wait for an answer; his feet took the ball and he started dribbling it on his knee. However, he was obviously out of practice as he quickly lost the ball and this time Tomas laughed openly.

"Not too shabby for a Latin teacher," Tomas muttered and Marcus glared at him good-naturedly even as Tomas took the ball and started showing him how to do it right.

"Show off," Marcus said and Tomas smirked, but still didn't let the ball touch the ground. "You seem to be good at sports. Do you play anything else?"

Tomas's smile faltered a bit and he shook his head, kicking the ball towards Marcus.

"Nah. I came here in the middle of the season... too late to join a team. I'm not allowed to do any contact sports anyway." Tomas paused, as if waiting for the barrage of questions, but Marcus just nodded and kicked the ball back to Tomas. They started rallying it back and forth, ignoring a few curious looks from the other students.

"You played at your old school?" Marcus wondered, trying to keep Tomas talking. He wanted to get to know the kid, to get a bit familiar with him before broaching the subject of tutoring. Somehow, Marcus had a feeling that this was the best approach. In any case, there was also something about Tomas that had intrigued him from the first moment. The way the boy watched him, the way that the tension seemed to leave his body every time Marcus was around. It made Marcus wonder what had made Tomas so tense and nervous in the first place. His gut was telling him something was the matter, something more than the "health problems" that Roger had mentioned, and Marcus had learned a long time ago to listen to his gut. His Instincts—and God—were the two things that had often saved Marcus's hide.

"I miss my old team in Mexico," Tomas admitted after a minute. "I miss my old friends." There was sadness in his voice and Marcus had a feeling Tomas wasn't talking just about his friends but about his whole life, about the family he'd lost. Marcus could relate to that quite well.

"You were allowed to play football back home?" Marcus noted with a frown.

"Yes," Tomas answered, looking confused by the question. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Isn't it a contact sport too?"

This time Tomas blushed, kicking the ball with a bit more force. Marcus caught it in his hands, and inclined his head in question.

"It's not... it didn't use to be this bad," Tomas finally admitted, shrugging, then nodded at Marcus to pass the ball back to him. Marcus did.

"I bet the stress of moving to a different city and school didn't help," Marcus acknowledged and Tomas nodded, jaw clenched and a lost look in his eyes. Marcus cursed internally. He didn't want to bring the kid down at the expense of some bonding. Tomas had been looking almost relaxed just a few minutes ago.

"It will get better," Marcus said, trying not to sound patronizing. "I mean... I know what it's like. I had to move around a lot when I was a kid. But time usually helps."

"How did time help?" Tomas asked doubtfully.

"Either I got used to people and they got used to me…or I was off again. New places, new chances. You just have to believe it works out in the end."

Tomas still didn't look convinced, but Marcus was a teacher and he probably didn't want to argue with him. Marcus sighed. Sometimes it was easier to be a priest... or at least to be perceived as one. Something about the collar made people reveal their thoughts much more easily.

Marcus kicked the ball back at Tomas and was somehow surprised to see it pass right by his legs. Tomas didn't even try; he let it roll off the court and onto the grass. He stood frozen, head slightly downcast as if he was trying to find an ant trail on the ground, but there was nothing to look at.

Marcus frowned and moved closer to Tomas, until he was standing right in front of him. He had to squat a bit to get a proper look at Tomas's face. He had already figured that Tomas was having one of his episodes, so he was expecting to see an unfocused look or even the eyes rolled back into his head. But the look on Tomas's face was different and it made Marcus take a step back, shocked.

There was an unnatural whiteness in the wide open eyes, the hitched breath and facial muscles twitching in response to images no one else could see. Marcus knew that look. He had seen it in the eyes of a woman who let a demon speak through her; he had seen it on a painting of the prophet Jeremiah. Marcus felt fear clutching at his innards as he saw the same white film covering the eyes of this fifteen year old boy.

"Tomas?" he asked in a choked voice. "Come back."

Reaching out, Marcus laid his hand on Tomas face. In that moment the white film disintegrated like clouds being blown away, giving way to the boy's normally brown eyes.

Tomas blinked, taking in a hitched breath, and swayed."Que pasó?"

He seemed confused and unsteady and Marcus led him towards a nearby bench, pushing him down to sit. Tomas followed without complaint, until Marcus grabbed his face with one hand and tilted his head up to check his eyes again. Tomas pulled away, startled.

"Qué estás haciendo?" It seemed Tomas didn't realize he was speaking in Spanish, which made Marcus's frown deepen.

"Dime tu nombre?" Marcus asked, his voice barely hiding a tremble.

"Tomas Ortega," Tomas said, then looked around as if just waking up from a dream."What's going on?" he asked and Marcus let out a relieved breath.

"I'd really like to know that too," Marcus said. "One minute we were kicking the ball, the next you just... froze. Then your eyes went white."

"Oh," Tomas said and looked away, one hand rubbing at his eyes as if trying to brush away something he was still seeing.

Marcus put a hand on Tomas arm."Do you remember any of it?"

Tomas shrugged off the arm and shook his head, his posture suddenly stiff and closed off. Something was telling Marcus that the boy was lying, but he couldn't push. They had just met a week ago and had barely exchanged more than few words. It really wasn't the ideal moment to start an interrogation.

Sighing, Marcus ran a hand through his cropped hair. "Are you okay? Or do you need to see the nurse?"

Tomas looked at him quickly, perhaps with relief that Marcus wasn't going to keep pushing.

"No, sir. I'm fine."

Marcus didn't believe him. Tomas's hand, clutching the bench, was slightly shaking and his face was flushed, though Marcus wasn't sure if it was from a raised temperature or shame. The slumped shoulders suggested the latter and, as Tomas quickly rose, the embarrassment and fear became quite evident. He grabbed his bag and the soccer ball, clearly fighting for some composure even as he stumbled over his own feet. Marcus rose from the bench just as quickly and put a steadying hand on Tomas's arm, to which Tomas reacted with a flood of words.

"I'm sorry for acting like a freak. I can't... can't stop it. Lo siento. I... I need to go back to class."

With that Tomas pulled away and ran inside the school.

Marcus didn't follow. He stood on the now empty playground, his mind whirling. When he had accepted this job, it was supposed to be just a temporary fix, a favor to one of Peter's old friends. Marcus had expected to teach Latin, maybe pester a few kids to stop bullying some other kids. He hadn't expected to be confronted by his old life... by his calling. Suddenly he remembered the conversation he had with Peter the morning before his first day.

_I think I would rather face a demon than a bunch of hormonal teenagers_.

Now his words had come back to bite him in the ass it seemed. Annoyed and put out, Marcus looked up at the sky.

"Damn you. I didn't mean it literally."

The only reply he got was the whoosh of the wind and the sun happily shining down on him.

 

* * *

 

"Estúpido, tan estúpido!" Tomas cursed himself even as he was running away from Marcus. He was supposed to be going to class now, but instead he headed towards the boys' bathroom, happy that at least recess was over and the hall was clear. Taking shelter in one of the stalls, his hands fumbled with the lock. He slammed the toilet lid closed and sat down heavily, putting his head in his hands.

Violent images flashed behind his eyelids and sick taunting sounded inside his head. Swallowing, Tomas fought back the nausea. This wasn't how it usually went.

Before coming to Chicago, the episodes had been scarce and far between. Tomas never remembered them, not right away. At night, his mind would open to the images and they would return with a vengeance in form of nightmares. Tomas would wake up covered in cold sweat, his heart beating wildly. But there was his Abuela, a soothing presence by his side and Tomas would fall back into dreamless sleep to the sound of her muttering quiet prayers, bringing rest to his soul.

Now she was dead, and the episodes were much more frequent and violent, the nightmares often sending Tomas rushing to the bathroom and expelling whatever food he managed to eat. Maybe that was one of the reasons why he felt such a lack of energy lately. Instead of growing and gaining weight as he should, he was losing it. It was just a matter of time before Olivia noticed he was getting scrawny and that would just mean more stress for her. Tomas was already feeling guilty for being such a burden to her; he wasn't going to add another problem. So far pretending everything was okay and keeping the increasing number of fits to himself was working, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it up. Sooner or later something was going to give.

Tomas shook his head and took in several deep breaths. It wasn't ideal, being in the boys' bathroom, but he needed to calm down.

"Estúpido," he muttered again, angry with himself. It just had to be his bad luck to have an episode right in front of the one teacher whose good opinion he wanted. Even in the one week, Tomas had grown to like Marcus Keane and it wasn't just for the effect his presence had on Tomas physically. He couldn't explain why or what it meant that, amidst all the darkness, Marcus was the only person in a long time who shone with such bright light. There were always people who stood out of the bunch; Tomas saw those people every day, passing them on the street. People with smiles on their faces, with hearts of gold and good intentions.

At least that's what Tomas thought his sight meant. It had taken him a good while to figure out that what he saw wasn't common and after several instances of ridicule he'd learned to keep it all to himself. Tomas supposed that it was a part of his "illness" that it had something to do with the episodes. Yet while the episodes never brought anything good, this sight never let Tomas down. The colors didn't lie and Tomas did well to keep away from people whose colors were turning bloody red or black.

That was why he was so set on not driving Mr. Keane away. Mr. Keane was clearly something good in Tomas's life, not least because the teacher had somehow managed to cut the episode short.

Tomas still couldn't believe that Marcus's touch had had such an effect on him, but the memory was clear. One second he was listening to Marcus talking about his own past, the next Tomas was pulled into the darkness. All he could hear was the angry shouting of a man, his voice thick and slurred as if drunk. Then came the scream and the sick sound of a crushing blow breaking bone. The sounds gave way to images that emerged from the darkness. The man was swaddled in black, the air around him thick and dangerous, brandishing a hammer. The woman was backing into a kitchen counter, her colors swirling from fear to pain, and then the coldness of death as the hammer hit its target. Tomas had wanted to look away but he couldn't, his eyes catching on the red and grey of the deadly wound. He had wanted to scream but couldn't catch his breath; it was as if his own lungs had stopped working. But the scene wasn't finished; the dark man was still attacking, this time trying to hurt someone much smaller. Someone shining brightly, so brightly Tomas had to squint and that was when he felt the touch on his face and the light surrounded him, enveloping him. He was yanked out of the scene. The last thing he saw was a small boy, reaching for a gun, and then he was swaying like a drunk, feeling as if his mind was still stuck somewhere halfway out of his body.

Tomas couldn't remember much of what happened after. He never could after an episode; the memories came later, during the night. But he saw the look of concern on his teacher's face, the sudden change of the colors. There was worry and... fear. Tomas didn't know if it was fear for him, or of him... he didn't want to stay around and find out in any case. As soon as his legs felt just a bit steady, he grabbed his things and ran like a coward.

He wasn't sure why he reacted that way; it wasn't like Mr. Keane didn't already know he was a freak. Hell, the whole school knew it by this point, there was no reason to hide. Still, Tomas wanted at least one person to accept him. It was nice being able to talk about Mexico, about the mundane stuff he missed and not automatically receive pity. And Tomas really did miss his old home. The friends who didn't judge, and no one really cared if he was thrown to the ground during a football practice, because the episodes came maybe once or twice a year. Not being regarded as something frail and strange. He just wanted this teacher to think of him as normal for as long as possible, but it seemed like that was already over.

With great effort, Tomas pulled himself back together. He pushed the images he had seen deep into the back of his mind. He knew they would plague him tonight but it didn't matter. Olivia had a night shift, so he could scream his head off in the apartment and no one would care. Sniffling, Tomas ran his hand under his nose, got off the toilet seat and unlocked the stall. He went to the row of sinks and ran the cold water, washing the sweat from his forehead, then rubbed his face dry with scratchy paper towel, successfully rubbing some color into his skin.

Taking in one more deep breath, Tomas straightened up and stepped into the hall, ready to face the world again.


	3. Chapter 3

It was two days later when Marcus finally caught up to Tomas. The boy was surprisingly good at keeping out of his way and even though Marcus could've just requested the office to call Tomas into the teachers' lounge, he didn't want to make a fuss or force the kid. What happened on the school basketball court had rattled him, but he was sure that forcing Tomas to talk about it wouldn't help the matter, not at this point. He needed to gain his trust first.

Returning home that evening, he'd told Peter what happened over dinner.

"Are you sure it wasn't just a fit? Maybe you're just projecting."

The tone in which Peter said it hinted that maybe Marcus missed his job so much he was starting to imagine stuff. Luckily Peter didn't voice it out loud and one look from Marcus made him raise his hands in a sign of surrender.

"No offense, love. Not like I wasn't seeing enemies behind every corner when I came home from my last tour."

Marcus's face relaxed a bit.

"I know what you mean, Peter. But this... this is different. Something about this kid just feels... off. I think he really needs help." Marcus looked right into Peter's eyes, hoping he would understand. "Or whatever it is that has its hands on him will win."

Peter sighed and squeezed Marcus's hand.

"You know I'll support you in whatever you want to do. I just... don't want to see you get hurt."

Hearing that sent a warm rush of love through Marcus's body and he leaned in to kiss Peter on the mouth.

"I love you too," he whispered and knew he would do anything to make sure that feeling never disappeared.

The following day, Marcus searched the schoolyard during lunch break for the familiar face, but he couldn't find it. At one point he thought he saw Tomas in the hall, but the boy must've seen him first and quickly turned, vanishing around the corner. Marcus sighed and decided to give it time. After all, Tomas could only hide for so long... his Latin class would be the next day.

Still, he spent that whole night tossing and turning in bed, so much that Peter threatened to kick him to the couch if he didn't calm down. Marcus forced himself to relax, even though it still took him some time to fall asleep. He had to figure out what was going on with the kid... it was as if someone was sitting on his shoulder, quietly whispering into his ear, pushing him towards Tomas. Marcus wondered if maybe God had found His way back to him, but if He had, He was still keeping His distance. If it was God trying to tell him something, Marcus wasn't equipped to understand it.

As the next Latin class approached, Marcus found himself looking at his watch almost nervously. Time seemed to be crawl by, but finally Marcus stepped into his last class of the day.

The usual chatter calmed down a bit, Marcus already having gained the respect of the students, or at least enough respect that they were trying not to mess with him. His eyes found the figure sitting almost at the back of room. Tomas was simultaneously hunched over and strung tight as a string. Even from across the room Marcus could see the dark circles under his eyes, the pale skin. He was of half a mind to ask the kid outright if he didn't need to see the nurse. As if reading his mind, though, Tomas looked up and defiantly squared his shoulders. He pulled out his textbook and raised his chin a bit, as if daring Marcus to say something. Marcus sighed and instead started his lesson.

During the next hour he observed Tomas slowly relax and even start communicating. Marcus made sure he engaged his students in the lesson and as class was ending he even caught Tomas smile at one of his jokes.

When the bell rang and the students were bolting from the class, Marcus stopped by Tomas's desk. He was packing up his things slowly, as if waiting for everyone else to leave. Marcus wasn't sure if Tomas wanted to talk to him or if he was simply trying to avoid the school bullies.

"Can you stay here for a moment, Tomas? I need to talk to you."

Tomas looked up, startled and Marcus hated to see that the tension was back in his body. Still, the boy gave a silent nod and finished packing his things. Marcus waited for the last student to leave the class. He would have preferred to close the door, but he didn't want to make Tomas feel trapped. Instead he grabbed a nearby chair, turned it around and straddled it. He would've plopped down on top of the desk as was his custom, but he didn't want to tower over Tomas. Still the boy seemed to fidget nervously on his seat. Marcus gave him a moment, knowing Tomas would be the first to break the silence. He was right.

"Look, if this is about what happened before," Tomas blurted. "I'm sorry. It wasn't... it was nothing."

Marcus wasn't sure what Tomas was expecting to hear but he must have been thinking either rant or ridicule.

"Are you alright?" Marcus asked instead and Tomas blinked, taken aback by the question. But his surprise lasted only a second and the boy bristled.

"I'm fine," Tomas snapped back, squaring his shoulders as if getting ready for a fight. He seemed to be trying not to appear weak and while Marcus admired the effort, he wasn't fooled by it.

"Well, pardon me if I don't believe that. You look like you haven't slept for a week."

Tomas looked like he wanted to protest but Marcus just waved it away.

"I'm not interested in lies. I'm also not your mother. But I want to know that it wasn't a mistake letting you go without calling your sister."

At the mention of his sister, Tomas deflated, an almost guilty look appearing on his face. Marcus saved that for later. "Don't tell her, please," he begged. "She would just worry. Nothing she can do about it anyway."

"Sometimes it's not about being able to help. Sometimes people just want to support you," Marcus said. Seeing the dubious look on Tomas's face, he let out a sigh.

"Was that all you wanted to talk to me about, sir?" Tomas asked rather hesitantly.

"No, actually, that wasn't it at all. I wanted to talk about your studies."

At this Tomas frowned and it was obvious he was trying to remember whether he had made some mistake on the latest test. Marcus would have let him flounder for a bit but he didn't have the heart. He gave a slight shake of head and smiled.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Tomas," he said before Tomas could ask. "I'm not sure if your previous teacher ever approached you about Certamen?"

"Oh." It was as if someone switched on the light. Tomas relaxed in his seat, obviously knowing where this conversation was going and relieved it wasn't concerning his health issues. "Yes, Mr. Andrews mentioned it maybe a week before his accident."

"Okay, I don't have to explain then. Your principal, Mr. Stanley, asked me to offer you personal tutoring during the next two months, to help you catch up so you can join in next year's competition."

Even as Marcus was speaking, Tomas was shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, sir, but... as I told Mr. Andrews... I don't want to compete."

Marcus paused. The way Roger was trying to pressure him into the tutoring, he would have thought they had at least sold Tomas on the idea. It seemed like he have to do that as well.

"Can I ask why not?" Marcus wasn't entirely set on pushing Tomas into the competition, but the tutoring did offer him a chance to spend more time with the boy and try to figure out what was going on. He couldn't let that chance slip through his fingers.

Tomas shrugged, looking partly embarrassed, partly annoyed.

"You saw what happened in the yard. Do you really think I want that to happen in front of other people, in the middle of a competition?"

Marcus's heart clenched.

"Come on, you can't let this define you. What are the chances of you having a fit right then and there?"

"Based on the last few months, pretty high," Tomas bit back, then let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't feel fit for that. Not to mention we can't afford the tutoring and there are surely some entrance fees..." Tomas trailed off, shaking his head."I can't even get a damn job flipping burgers! I tried that last month and ended up almost burning down the joint!"

Marcus could see that Tomas was starting to spiral. He automatically reached out, putting his hand on the curve of the boy's shoulder and, again, it was as if someone had flipped a switch. Tomas's eyes went a bit wide but his breathing calmed down.

"Relax," Marcus soothed „No one is asking you to pay for anything. I'm sure the school would be more than happy to help out with the fees, seeing as you would be representing them. I won't comment on the burger joint, because I'm a menace in the kitchen and managed to burn water." Marcus grinned and was heartened to see a start of a smile appearing on Tomas's own face. "I know the thought of something happening in the middle of the competition is scary. But you can't live your life in fear and let good opportunities slide just for maybes."

Tomas's face scrunched up in thought and Marcus could see he was about to protest.

"Let me finish, please," he urged and Tomas closed his mouth, only raising an eyebrow in question. "I'm pretty sure you don't want to spend your life flipping burgers. Do you want to go to college?"

Hesitantly, Tomas nodded. He said, „I need to get an office job or something. Maybe there no one would care if I... if I space out for a minute."

"Okay. But you don't really have money for a fancy college. You have good grades, I bet you're planning to get in on some scholarship, am I right?"

"I... I wasn't thinking about it that much," Tomas said, though by the look on his face the thought had already crossed his mind a few times.

"You know the Certamen is a prestigious competition. Even just taking part in it would look good on your resume. You have a good head on you, Tomas. I know that because I see the work you're handing in each week. Don't let it go to waste because you're afraid."

Marcus could see his speech had at least some effect on Tomas. The boy's cheeks turned a much healthier color and, despite the dark smudges under his eyes, he looked hopeful and more alert than at the start of the class. Marcus could almost see the thoughts running through Tomas's head, so he knew the exact moment when Tomas hit a snag.

"Even if I wanted to, sir, I couldn't. I don't have money to pay for a tutor and I am not ready for the competition. And I'm not sure if Mr. Stanley would let me join the study group next year," Tomas said and Marcus could hear the unspoken „I'm not sure I even want to join a study group".

Marcus gave Tomas's shoulder a pat."Don't worry about that, Tomas. Mr. Stanley will be more than happy to cover my salary. Seeing as I am already tutoring the study group, I can help you get caught up quite easily."

"You... you would do that?" There was clear disbelief in Tomas's voice and Marcus felt a pang of sadness upon realizing the kid was indeed surprised someone would be willing to spend time on him.

"I wouldn't be offering otherwise," Marcus said gently and watched as Tomas took it in. His face was a mix of emotions and Marcus wanted to laugh and tell him not to ever try poker, but instead he just smiled and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.

"Here's a list of some books you might want to check out from the library."

Tomas took the paper, giving it a quick once over, eyebrows rising in question at seeing a phone number attached. Marcus rolled his eyes.

"My number, in case you have any questions. Or if your sister does. You will have to tell her when we start the lessons. If she has any problems or questions about it, tell her to call me, alright?"

"Yeah, thanks." Tomas carefully folded the paper and put it inside his bag. "Are you sure it won't be a bother? Tutoring me, I mean?"

"What, to have a chance to spend some quality time poring over grammar and getting paid for it? Never." Marcus smiled and stood up, barely stopping himself from automatically ruffling the kid's hair.

"Okay, it is Friday afternoon, school is over. I still need to grade a few papers and you better head for the library and check out some books, or you know... enjoy the weekend. See you Tuesday."

Tomas stood up and Marcus was happy to note that when he headed for the door there was a spring in his step.

"Tomas?" he called after him and Tomas turned.

"Yes, sir?"

"Do try to get some sleep, yeah?"

An emotion Marcus couldn't decipher flickered through the boy's eyes, but it vanished too quickly and Tomas ducked his head.

"Yes, sir, I'll try," he said in a soft voice. "Have a nice weekend."

"Yeah, kid, you too," Marcus sighed as the door closed. He had a feeling he'd just gotten himself mixed up in something he wasn't sure he could handle, but there didn't seem to be a way back.

* * *

The weekend turned out to be at least half decent after all. Olivia managed to get both days off of work, and even though she spent most of the time catching up on her studies, Tomas convinced her to go for a walk in the nearby park. He wasn't sure whether or not to discuss the extra tutoring with her, not until he had a chance to try it out. In truth he was still having his doubts about the whole competition. With the recurring fits and worsening nightmares, he had to work hard to keep up his studies. He was getting more and more tired, feeling on the verge of burn-out, as silly as that sounded for a fifteen-year-old who didn't have friends and could dedicate all his free time to study. The problem was that the lack of sleep was messing with his concentration, which in turn made it much harder to keep up the protective walls. Whereas before Tomas could mostly ignore the colorful shimmers around people as they passed by, now he could hardly walk to school without getting a headache from all the visual input. Wearing sunglasses helped, but Chicago wasn't sunny enough to justify wearing them every day and Olivia wasn't stupid either. She would figure out that Tomas wasn't doing all that well.

So he put on his big boy pants and tried to focus all his attention on his older sister. She looked tired and older than her 20 years and Tomas felt a pang of regret upon realizing some of that weariness was caused by himself. Olivia had worked day shifts all this last week, which meant she was home at night and had the misfortune to be awakened by Tomas's nightmares. They had separate rooms—thank heaven for small mercies, Tomas didn't think he could have shared a room with his sister the same way he'd shared the apartment with his Abuela. There would have been no hiding his lack of sleep or his wild pacing after a nightmare. As it was, the thin walls sometimes did little to stifle the sounds of Tomas gasping for breath or moaning. No, Tomas preferred the nights when she was at work and he was alone. No need to pretend everything was okay, no need to try and tiptoe around Olivia's room on his way to the bathroom when he felt like throwing up from the gory images his mind was showing him.

"You know, you should be out with some friends, instead of taking your older sister for a walk," Olivia commented as they were leaning against the banister of an old wooden bridge, looking down at the ducks in the pond. Despite her words and her tired appearance, she looked happy. Tomas smiled.

"I see my friends every day at school," Tomas said easily, not even pausing as he lied. "I barely see you."

"I know. I'm sorry, Tomas," Olivia sighed. "It shouldn't take long now. At least the school will be on break during summer. If I get a few more shifts during the summer I might be able to get some money saved for the next year and then we can breathe more easily."

Tomas grimaced and shook his head.

"You shouldn't be working so much. Maybe... maybe I can get some job during the summer too. I mean... there must be something I can do. Even if just walking dogs or work in someone's garden."

Olivia looked like she wanted to protest the idea, so Tomas jumped in.

"Come on, it's not like I want to spend the whole summer locked up in the apartment. I need to catch some sun too. Abuela always put me to work back in Mexico, helping out her friends in the garden or at the church. I won't break."

Olivia sighed and finally nodded.

"Okay. If you find something nice, let me know. Maybe I will even skip my boring old job and join you."

Tomas laughed and threw his arms around his sister, enveloping her in a hug.

"Thank you,  _manita_ ," he said teasingly and Olivia ruffled his hair.

"Don't be cheeky,  _Tomasito._  Or I might get you a job delivering newspapers. I doubt you want to wake up before dawn during summer."

Tomas rolled his eyes. He actually wouldn't mind delivering newspapers, seeing as he was mostly up long before dawn. Sometimes when Olivia wasn't home he even went for an early run, enjoying the empty streets. Of course if she had known about it she would have freaked. This was still Chicago, after all, and she didn't like him being out at odd hours. That was why he knew she wasn't being serious about the newspaper delivery. Still, he felt at least a bit of relief at the thought that he could get a job during the summer and help her out. Who knew, if the tutoring with Marcus went well and Tomas indeed managed to join in the Certamen competition, he could actually make his sister proud. Right now, looking at her happy face and the eyes that reminded Tomas so much of his Abuela, he felt that making Olivia proud was the most important job in his life.

* * *

Monday came fast, which wasn't that surprising, but the fact that Tomas was actually excited about it was. He found himself to be actively looking forward to the tutoring by Mr. Keane on Tuesday, despite how conflicted the thought made him, as he walked down the hall that morning towards his first class. He was nervous because there was a good chance that once they started the tutoring, Mr. Keane would see through the farce and realize that Tomas wasn't so bright. Tomas knew he would mess up sooner or later... he always did. And once that happened, the teacher would probably send him away, wash his hands of him. That's what people did, after all. Every time Tomas messed up, people left... or died.

But maybe, just maybe, this time it could be different. Tomas really hoped so, was clinging to that thought with the last of his strength. He needed a win and if anyone could bring it to him, it was Marcus Keane. That was what Tomas had thought since the first moment he'd laid his eyes on the man, since he'd felt the warm energy Marcus was exuding with same ease as others breathed. So there was also another emotion contesting with the despair of the last few months... hope.

It was with those conflicting emotions that he waited at the end of Monday for an hour, just so he could catch the teacher after the senior Latin class. Tomas loitered in the hall waiting for the bell, and as soon as the students started exiting the room, he managed to squeeze past them.

The teacher was cleaning off the chalkboard, whistling some old tune. Tomas waited until the last student had gone, then softly cleared his throat to let the teacher know about his presence.

"Mr. Keane? Can I bother you for a moment, please?"

The man turned and smiled, dusting the chalk off his hands.

"Hey, Tomas. Didn't expect to see you there today. How was your weekend?"

Tomas blinked, a bit taken aback by the interest.

"It was okay, thank you. How... how was yours?" He asked a bit sheepishly.

"Busy helping out at the shelter on Saturday, but Sunday was just perfect for a walk. Spring is finally here it seems. But I'm sure you didn't wait for an hour just to talk about my weekend. What can I help you with?"

"How do you know I waited?" Tomas was stumped. He'd spent most of the hour in the bathroom, catching up on his reading and avoiding the hall monitor.

Marcus rolled his eyes.

"I saw you at the door just before the bell," Marcus replied with a chuckle and sat down on the edge of his desk, grabbing an apple that was sitting on it."So? What can I help you with?"

Tomas fidgeted and told himself it was silly to be nervous.

"I went to the library Friday, to get those books you recommended to me. I managed to get the grammar one, but they didn't have the other two... and I don't know where to find them." Tomas looked down at the floor, his fingers worrying at the edges of his backpack.

Marcus frowned in thought, then shook his head and looked apologetic.

"Of course, my bad. I got those two books in a small bookshop back in Europe... I didn't really think about whether they would be available here." Marcus stood up and clapped his hands together, the sound causing Tomas's head to snap up. "Okay, I have a question."

"Sir?"

"What are your plans for today?"

Tomas blinked, unsure where this was going. He shrugged.

"I thought about going to the library, then home for dinner. I don't have any other plans."

"Great! What do you say about coming to my house? I can lend you those books and we can have our first study session... or at least make some plans for the week. We haven't really talked about the details yet."

Tomas let his mouth hang open, taken aback by the offer. He really wasn't used to being invited to someone's home, and especially not by his teacher. For a second he could hear the voice of his sister warning him about going anywhere with strangers, but he shook it off. Mr. Keane wasn't a stranger and Tomas knew he wasn't a threat either. He might not be good at many things, but thanks to his weird gift Tomas had a pretty good sense of people. He could spot a predator a mile away and he'd learned at young age to steer clear of them. There was not an ounce of wrongness in Mr. Keane, not that Tomas could sense.

"Wouldn't it be a bother to you? I mean... I thought our study lessons would be at school."

Mr. Keane shook his head.

"No bother at all. I'd actually prefer the comfort of my house and a pot of strong coffee, but if it makes you uncomfortable, no problem. I can bring the books tomorrow and we can setup the study session in one of the empty classes."

Tomas shook his head. He really didn't want the teacher to think he was afraid of him or make him spend any more time at school than was necessary.

"Well, if you don't mind me being at your house..."

"Wonderful! Okay, let me grab my things and we can go. Do you want to call your sister and tell her where you're going?"

Tomas quickly shook his head. He might've been sure that Mr. Keane was safe, but Olivia might have reservations. Not to mention he still hadn't told her about the whole tutoring and competition thing.

"No, it's okay. Olivia won't get home before nine tonight. And I don't want to bother her now when she's at work."

Mr. Keane gave him a curious glance but didn't comment. Well, not until they reached his car and Tomas was buckled in the passenger seat.

"I really hope it's not this easy to persuade you to get in a car with some strange guy without telling your sister where you're headed," Mr. Keane observed and Tomas gave him a startled look, but then laughed.

"No, sir. That's... never happened before." Tomas leaned back in the seat, a bit touched and amused by the concern in the other man's eyes.

"Can I ask how I earned this privilege then?"

Tomas shrugged. Being in close quarters with Mr. Keane and away from the school buzzing with other people put him in a relaxed mood.

"I know you mean no harm, that's all."

"Oh. How so?"

Tomas looked at the older man and hesitantly said: "I just do."

"Well, I sure hope your radar works on everyone else too, kid, 'cause this is a dangerous world."

"I know that," Tomas said, then when he saw the concerned look Mr. Keane was shooting him, he quickly added: "I mean... Mexico City wasn't the safest place on earth either. But I can look after myself."

Mr. Keane gave him a considering look and slowly nodded. Tomas fidgeted on the seat a bit, the silence in the car suddenly stifling. He could feel Keane's curiosity rising though and Tomas wasn't sure he was prepared for the man's questions.

"So... where did you learn Latin?" Tomas blurted out, internally cringing at how stupid that sounded, but Mr. Keane didn't seem to mind. However, he did take his time answering.

"I used to be a priest," he said after a moment, and Tomas could see the slight change of color in the air. He frowned. That subtle change usually meant a painful subject was being broached and Tomas wasn't sure he wanted to continue with this topic if it stirred up that feeling more. But he was still a fifteen-year-old boy and curiosity won.

"An actual priest?" he wondered, eyes a bit too wide. Mr. Keane chuckled.

"Well, I certainly wasn't playing one in the movies." He winked and Tomas closed his mouth.

"Sorry, I didn't..."

"I'm kidding. Yes, I was a priest. But I'm not one anymore, so no need to get all flustered."

"I just... I can't imagine you as one," Tomas said with a shake of his head, apologetic but curious at the same time.

Mr. Keane shrugged.

"It gave me a way to help people. Give back something to the Church for taking me in as a child." Mr. Keane said this with a strange look and Tomas could see the colors swirling, a small tendril slithering around Marcus's chest. It wasn't dark, it wasn't dangerous, but it signified pain and Tomas felt regret at having pursued the subject. At the same time though... it was something he could relate to.

"You lost your parents as a child?" he asked softly, ready to change the topic at any second. Mr. Keane took his time answering and Tomas was about to apologize and ask him to forget he'd ever said anything, when the older man finally spoke.

"I was seven years old when my parents died in front of me," he said quietly and Tomas swallowed. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear more, but Mr. Keane continued.

"I spent five years between foster homes and the home for boys. Until one day a priest came and picked several of us. The Church bought us, gave us a home and an education. What else could an orphan boy ask for, yeah?"

Tomas bit his bottom lip, his hand curling into a fist. He knew that wasn't the whole story, could feel the pain emanating from Mr. Keane's whole being, even though it was dulled now by long years. Still, it hurt Tomas almost physically and he grimaced. His teacher must've taken note, because he looked apologetic.

"Sorry, I didn't want to overshare like that—"

Tomas shook his head.

"No, it's okay. I get it now."And he really did. He understood why Mr. Keane had become a priest, or at least he thought so.

"You became a priest to give back... because there was someone who cared. Someone who took you in when they didn't have to. I understand that."

Mr. Keane gave him a long look then reached out to squeeze his shoulder.

"You're a smart kid, Tomas. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Tomas wanted to protest the sentiment, but for once he didn't. It felt good to be told he was smart instead of being called a freak. It felt even nicer because he knew that Mr. Keane meant those words, that it wasn't just pretense.

"I lost my parents when I was six," Tomas confessed, unsure where those words came from or why he felt the sudden urge to share them.

Marcus frowned.

"I thought that your mother died only recently..."

Tomas shrugged.

"She did. But... she and my father sent me away when I was six. I never saw my father again... I don't know if he's even alive now. Olivia tried to find him when Mom died but... she had no luck. And Mom..." Tomas shook his head. His mother might as well have been dead. He'd barely seen her over the last nine years and while she loved Olivia, every time she looked at Tomas she got a strange look in her eyes and Tomas knew it was fear. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve it, but he did know his own mother had sent him away. He knew how it felt to be handed over. What it was like when someone was willing to take him in. But he didn't voice these thoughts. Instead, he cleared his throat and tried to think about something else. Anything else.

Marcus seemed to understand that.

"If you ever want to talk about it... my door is open."

Tomas looked up and nodded his thanks, though he still felt the weight of all his losses pressing on his chest, the sleeping snake stirring awake momentarily.

"As a priest or as a teacher?"

"As a friend."

Tomas didn't know what to say to that. He felt suddenly parched, his throat in a knot.

"Uh... th-thanks."

Mr. Keane raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"We're here."

The car pulled up in front of a small house and Tomas was glad for the chance to get out and breathe in some fresh air, to get a second to compose himself.

"Nice house," Tomas said once they were inside. He took off his shoes right at the door without being asked to, ignoring the amused smirk on Marcus's face.

"Thanks. It's not ours though, just rented. Peter is planning to build a house next year, as soon as we purchase the land."

Tomas blinked, his eyes taking in the few photos on the shelf in the living room. Most of them were of a man in his mid thirties, with hair that was turning salt and pepper. He was either fishing or in an army uniform with several other soldiers. Tomas caught only one picture with Mr. Keane, but he was looking very happy in it, in a half embrace with the other man.

"So, Peter..." Tomas started, surprised it had taken him so long to put two and two together.

"He's my partner, yes," Mr. Keane said, his head slightly inclined. "I hope that doesn't bother you," he added softly and Tomas could feel the slight nervous shift in the energy. He quickly shook his head.

"No, of course not. I was just... surprised."

Mr. Keane's posture seemed to relax and he smiled.

"Let me take a guess, you expected me to have a wife, one point five kids and a dog?"

"I pegged you more for a cat person," Tomas deadpanned and after a second Mr. Keane burst out laughing.

"Oh, there would be cats and dogs, but Peter put a ban on them after I brought in one too many strays." Still amused, Marcus nodded toward the couch."Why don't you make yourself comfortable? I'll go grab those books. Do you want some tea or pop?"

"Water is fine if it's no bother, thank you," Tomas said and put down his backpack as Marcus vanished upstairs. He started walking around the room, looking at random things, pausing in front of one of the photographs with Peter. It was the one with the other soldiers. The photo was taken somewhere in the desert and all the men looked tired and worn, their eyes speaking of the horrors they'd seen. Yet still there was a smile on their faces. Tomas wondered what Peter was like. He hoped he was a good man. He had to be, because when Mr. Keane mentioned him, he shone even brighter than usual. Tomas doubted someone as pure as Mr. Keane could love someone who didn't deserve it. Which just made Tomas a little bit nervous at he wondered what Peter would think about him. For some reason, Tomas really didn't want to mess up.

By the time Mr. Keane had returned to the living room with several books under his arm and a bottle of cold water in his other hand, Tomas was sitting on the couch, fidgeting nervously. Tomas was very grateful for the water, because it soothed his parched mouth and also gave him something else to fiddle with.

His teacher must've noticed that he was tense, because he sat down next to him, putting the books on the table, a serious look on his face.

"What's wrong?"

"Are you sure Peter won't mind me being here?" Tomas muttered and Mr. Keane raised an eyebrow.

"Why would he mind?"

Tomas shrugged.  _He might mind that you're spending your time with a freak like me_ , he wanted to say, but was smart enough not to voice it.

"We weren't supposed to be having a lesson today. I might be taking up your time."

Mr. Keane just waved that off and handed Tomas one of the books.

"This is  _Miles Gloriosus_  by Plautus. It's a comedy play and I think you might enjoy it. If you like it, I have several more plays of his, but this is my favorite. Judging by the papers you handed in, you should be able to read it without too much trouble."

Tomas took the book and opened the first page. He was a little surprised to see it was illustrated, though not by the publisher.

"Did you... draw in the book?" he asked with a carefully neutral tone and a raised eyebrow. Mr. Keane gave him a sheepish grin.

"It might be one of my vices. I like to doodle in books," his teacher admitted and Tomas looked down at the pages filled with Latin text and pencil drawings. His lips twitched in a smile and he felt suddenly very privileged and emotional. His teacher was lending him a book he put a piece of himself into and each page was like a look into his heart. Tomas felt warmth coursing through his body just from touching the pages.

"It's nice," he said finally, trying not to show how much this simple gesture meant to him. "Thank you. I'll be sure to return them in the same condition."

"I'm sure you will," Mr. Keane said with a smile.

"Do you draw in every book? Or just the ones you like?" Tomas asked when he saw the second book he was handed also had some drawings, although there were fewer of them.

"The books I read over and over wear my mark, I'm afraid. I think the Bible got it the worst."

"Isn't that... a sin?" Tomas asked, a little taken aback that a priest, even an ex-priest, would feel free to draw in the Holy Book.

"The Bible is mostly filled with the words of men, Tomas," Mr. Keane said calmly. "I wouldn't deface the actual words of God, don't worry."

Tomas blinked.

"How... how can you tell the difference?"

Mr. Keane gave him a long, studious look and Tomas felt as if those eyes were burning through him, looking right into his heart.

"I just do," the ex-priest finally said and Tomas gaped in surprise at hearing his own words being thrown back at him. He quickly snapped his mouth shut and swallowed, looking away.

"That's... cool, Mr. Keane"

"I think you know me well enough to call me Marcus."

"Um… Marcus."

Marcus snickered then took pity on Tomas and returned to the material at hand. Soon they were lost in the topic of Latin, discussing Tomas's strong and weak points and where they should be focusing for the next week or two. Marcus gave Tomas a copy of the materials the main study group was already working on, to at least get some idea of what he should be catching up to.

Sometime later in the evening,, Marcus was just in the middle of reading to Tomas from  _De Rerum Natura_ in order to introduce him the concept of metre, and Tomas was so focused on listening to Marcus's smooth voice, the way the Latin words seemed to almost come to life as the air around Marcus shivered as his voice rose and fell, that he didn't notice the jingling of keys in the lock. He heard footsteps and his head snapped up just as a man stepped into the room.

It was Peter, the same man as in the photos, only now he was in civilian clothes and the salt and pepper in his hair was a bit more pronounced. His eyes held a bit of a surprise as they landed on Tomas.

"Oh, good, we have a guest. I was worried you were talking to yourself," Peter said with a smile, as Marcus paused in his reading, rolling his eyes.

"I usually prefer singing to reading Latin when I'm by myself," Marcus said and put down the book. "Peter, this is my student, Tomas. Tomas, this is my partner, Peter."

The introduction was innocent enough, but Tomas froze. He had been watching Peter since he stepped inside the room, taking in the colors surrounding the man. His colors were light and warm just like Marcus's although he didn't shine as bright. No one shone like Marcus, Tomas knew, even if he hadn't yet figured out why. At first, Peter was warm and safe, even though there was a momentary spike of wariness as he spotted Tomas. However, the moment Marcus uttered Tomas's name, the colors changed to cold blue and Tomas almost flinched. He knew what that color meant. It wasn't just wariness; it was fear... it was protectiveness towards a loved one who wasn't him. Tomas knew the color well; he'd seen it around his mother when he returned from Mexico. He'd seen it on the faces of strangers when he woke up from one of his fits.

Peter must've heard his name before to have this reaction and Tomas felt his face flush with shame, his stomach tremble with sadness. He was of half a mind to just bolt out the door, to tell Marcus this was all a mistake. That he didn't need to study, that he wasn't worth his time anyway. But he could feel Marcus next to him, a hand casually touching his shoulder as if letting the other man know that Tomas was alright, that he was safe to be around. And somehow that small gesture managed to warm the cold blue, to turn them into a wary yet more welcoming yellow as Peter reached out to shake his hand. Tomas accepted the hand, hoping his palm wasn't slick with sweat and his grip wasn't limp like a dead fish. Peter looked into his eyes, searching, and Tomas couldn't have looked away even if he wanted to.

It was as if he'd passed some test, as a silent look passed between Peter and Marcus and the tension in the room seemed to dissipate as quickly as it had come. Tomas blinked, unsure of what exactly happened, trying to calm down.

"Nice to finally meet you, Tomas," Peter said with an easy smile, though there was still something in his eyes that bothered Tomas. "Marcus here couldn't stop talking about how excited he was to get someone who puts a bit of thought into their papers."

"They are definitely a more compelling read than what most of the juniors hand in," Marcus said and stood up from the couch.

"How was your day, darling?" he asked with a smirk and Peter gave him a tired sigh.

"Too mundane to bore your student with. How's your study session going?"

"Actually, looks like we passed from study time to dinner time and I didn't even notice," Marcus said, glancing at the clock that read 6:35 p.m. Tomas blinked, surprised by how quickly the time had gone, then he realized that Olivia would be home soon and that he was supposed to cook dinner. Cursing in Spanish under his breath, Tomas jumped up from the couch.

"Everything alright?" Marcus raised an eyebrow, catching some of the words.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I need to go. My sister will be home soon and I haven't made dinner yet." Tomas started grabbing his things frantically, cursing himself for forgetting and even more for the fact he didn't have a clue how to get home. Marcus's house was in a different part of the city and while Tomas could probably make it home within an hour on foot, it was getting dark rather quickly. Maybe if he could find the closest bus stop...

"Okay, relax. I'm sure I can get you home before your sister arrives. If you want, we can stop at a pizza place so you don't have to cook anything."

Tomas paused in mid-motion, eyes wide in surprise.

"You would give me a ride home?" he finally asked, his voice filled with hope. The idea that he wouldn't have to find his way home on foot or battle people on public transport made him sigh with relief. He didn't like being around so many people and as the darkness fell it was harder to discern the dark shadows. Plus, he'd rather not have a fit in the middle of some unknown street at this hour.

"I drove you here. You really thought I would kick you out in the dark in a part of town you don't even know?" Marcus looked almost offended and Tomas wanted to apologize profusely, when Peter chuckled.

"What's so funny, dear?" Marcus raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest.

"You, with your feathers all ruffled," Peter said with a smile.

"I don't want to cause any trouble," Tomas quickly put in, hoping he wasn't starting a disagreement between the two, even though the only one feeling tense seemed to be him. "I mean, I can catch a bus or something," he added weakly and put the last book into his backpack.

Marcus rolled his eyes.

"Don't be silly. I'm not sending you out into the city alone. In any case, I need to get some takeout as well... not like I remembered to cook."

Peter actually seemed happy about the prospect of take-out and Tomas wondered whether Marcus could cook at all.

"Chinese or Thai are good options," Peter noted as Marcus came towards him. Tomas headed towards the door, wanting to give the two some privacy while they were discussing dinner plans.

"Goodnight, Mr... Keane?" Tomas guessed, seeing as all he knew was Peter's first name. Marcus chuckled and Peter slapped him on the arm playfully.

"It's Peter Morrow, but you can call me Peter, or Mr. Keane here will start calling me old."

"I would never dare," Marcus opposed, raising his arms in a gesture of innocence and Peter snorted.

"Only because you don't want to sleep on the couch. Now go, the boy needs to get home and I am hungry."

"There's always the soup I made yesterday."

"I'm not  _that_  hungry," Peter said with a smirk. Marcus grabbed theatrically at his heart. Tomas couldn't stop the chuckle and Peter looked at him with surprisingly soft eyes. "It was nice to meet you, Tomas."

Tomas nodded, swallowing the sudden tightness in his throat. Marcus opened the front door and he was a bit surprised when he felt a raindrop on his face, quickly followed by more. They exchanged a look and dashed it through the front yard to the car.

Once inside the car, Tomas leaned back in the seat, feeling a bit awkward at trailing in some water, but happy he didn't have to walk anywhere in this weather. Marcus turned on the heat to get them dry and asked for Tomas's address. They rode in silence at first, but Marcus become bored of it very quickly. Fingers tapping on the wheel in some unknown rhythm, he kept giving Tomas small glances. Finally, as they were passing a pizzeria, Marcus slowed down the car.

"Do you want to stop here and get some pizza for dinner?" he offered and wasn't all that surprised when Tomas quickly shook his head.

"No, thanks. Olivia would be curious where I got it from..." or why it was still warm and he didn't want to say anything about Marcus, not yet. For some reason Tomas thought that the less Olivia knew about Marcus, the better, though he couldn't figure out the reason behind the feeling.

"Is there any reason you don't just tell her?" Marcus seemed to be following the same train of thought as Tomas, which was a bit irritating. Tomas shrugged.

"I don't want her to get her hopes up about the competition... not yet. She might also start to worry that it's too much pressure—" Tomas shook his head. "I'll tell her soon."

Please do. I'd prefer if she knew you'll be spending two or three afternoons studying with me. Actually I'm pretty sure she should give permission for that," Marcus frowned and Tomas bit his lip, thinking how best to steer Marcus off the topic.

"I'll tell her during the weekend, " he muttered a bit sulkily, then added: "It's not like she would notice." Tomas said and earned a curious look from Marcus.

"What do you mean?"

Tomas paused, unsure if he should say anything. He didn't want to get his sister into trouble, but he could see Marcus was getting concerned and he wanted to nip that concern in the bud.

"I usually spend my time after school at the library anyway. And Olivia is either at work or at school. When she comes home she's too tired to play detective."

Marcus grimaced and Tomas was surprised to note that his concern only seemed to deepen.

"It's okay, really," Tomas quickly added. "She's doing all she can."

"All the more reason you stop lying to her, Tomas," Marcus said seriously.

"I'm not lying to her. Today's lesson wasn't even planned."

Tomas could see Marcus wanted to argue, but they were already pulling up in front of Tomas's apartment building. As Marcus parked the car, Tomas gave him a sheepish smile.

"I'm sorry for not inviting you in, but..."

Marcus nodded.

"Thanks for the books... and inviting me to your house."

"You're always welcome there, okay?" Marcus urged, as if giving Tomas a secret message. Tomas blinked then nodded.

"Now go. Don't forget tomorrow's test and clear up your schedule for Wednesday. We might start cracking down on some grammar."

"Will do, Mr. Keane," Tomas said with a smile and opened the car door.

"That's Marcus, remember!" Marcus called after him as Tomas ran up to the entrance of the building. Tomas turned at the door, surprised to see the car still in place. Marcus gave him a little wave and pulled away from the curb just as Tomas slipped inside the building.

* * *

Later that night, as Peter and Marcus were lying in bed with Marcus resting his head on Peter's chest, one arm thrown over his midriff, Peter finally found the courage to begin the conversation..

"Are you sure it was a good idea to bring Tomas into our house?" he asked softly and as expected, he felt Marcus tense in his arms. Peter counted himself lucky when he didn't pull away.

"What do you mean?"

"If... if he's possessed—"

"He's not," Marcus said quickly, and this time he looked up at his partner's face.

"Are you sure? You seemed to think there was something wrong with him just a few days back. What changed?"

_I spent time with him_ , Marcus wanted to say, but that wasn't enough of an explanation and he knew he owed Peter a bit more, especially if he planned on bringing Tomas home more often. With a sigh, Marcus gently patted Peter on the stomach and pulled up into a sitting position, turning on the bedside lamp. They needed to talk this through and he wanted to look Peter in the eyes while they did it.

"You know how before I could feel God... how He spoke to me, made me his vessel so I could help others?"

Peter nodded and Marcus felt the connection between them deepen. He was eternally grateful for the fact Peter was willing to listen to him even if he was treading on the thin ice of religion.

"But you can't... feel him now, can you?" Peter asked, breaking the silence.

"No." Marcus shook his head and there was the sadness he had grown accustomed to feeling, but there was also something new. Just a bit of hope. "No, I can't feel Him, not like I used to. But... every time I'm in a room with Tomas, it's like... I can feel He's close. It's like... it's like someone's standing right behind your back, you know? And you expect any second you'll feel a hand touching your shoulder, but when you turn around there's no one."

Peter frowned and Marcus, who was watching his face with frightening intensity, sighed, running a hand over his face.

"I am not explaining myself well, but truth be said, I'm not sure what is it that I feel. Just... you have to trust me on this. Whatever's going on with Tomas, God is pushing me close to him. Leading me like a blind man and I know Tomas needs my help. I'm sure of it, now more than ever."

"Okay," Peter acquiesced. "I'm not saying don't help him. He actually seems like a good kid. But be careful. I don't... don't want to see you hurt."

"I think I can take Tomas in a fight, darling," Marcus joked but Peter shook his head.

"You know what I mean. I'm not sure how this whole demons and God thing works. You know I'm not such a religious guy, even though some of your stories make me want to buy a shit ton of crucifixes and get the whole house blessed."

Marcus smiled as Peter rolled his eyes, even though the corner of his lips twitched as well.

"I'm sure that whatever's going on with Tomas, he's on the side of good. All the more reason to protect him."

Peter nodded and reached out to pull Marcus back into his embrace.

"As long as you're safe, I don't have a problem with it."

"Do you trust me, Peter?" Marcus asked suddenly and Peter froze.

"Of course I do," he said, sounding offended that Marcus could even ask that. Marcus just smiled.

"In that case, trust that I can take care of myself. I've been doing it for plenty of years, even before God decided to lend me a hand."

"Yes, but now He is not exactly here and I'm all the backup you have. I don't want to disappoint you, my love, but I don't have much experience warding off demonic entities."

"You could never disappoint me," Marcus said in return and snuggled closer into his lover's embrace. For a moment, they were both silent, just enjoying each other's company, listening to their breathing, feeling each other's heartbeat.

"Do you ever regret leaving the Church?" Peter asked and Marcus raised his head, looking at him with warm blue eyes.

"Sometimes, I miss it. The thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of saving a soul and sending those unclean spirits back to Hell where they all belong. I regret losing that connection, the fact I can no longer be of use to our Lord." Marcus paused. "I regret many things, Peter..." he leaned in and gave Peter a most tender kiss. "... but you're definitely not one of them."

 

 

* * *

 

Tomas prepared a quick dinner of grilled cheese sandwiches just before Olivia arrived home. They talked a bit, Tomas telling her a few sentences about school while Olivia regaled him with the latest gossip from work. Tomas enjoyed it, listening to the tales about Olivia's colleagues as if it was the latest episode of a soap opera. When the food was eaten and dishes were washed though Tomas found himself yawning so he excused himself to bed. It was a bit early for him, but for once he was hoping for a restful night. He was still feeling strangely relaxed by the afternoon he spent at Marcus's place, so he went to bed in good spirits.

It was several hours later though when the demons seemed to have caught up. Tomas was thrashing on a bed, gripped in a horrible nightmare. He saw another boy, not much older than himself, biking home at night. The boy had his headphones on and Tomas knew right away that this was going to be bad. It was as if he was looking at the scene through someone else's eyes, and that someone was following the boy's approach from inside the house.

Tomas twitched, everything around him moving in slow motion. He waited for the door to open, for the boy to walk past the living room and the kitchen, heading into the bathroom. With the headphones still on, there was no way he could hear the muffled screams of his mother trying to warn him, the gurgling of air leaving her lungs as a knife slit her throat. The father in the living room was already dead and Tomas wanted to scream, wanted to do something to warn the boy.

_This is a dream, please be a dream,_  Tomas repeated in his mind over and over, even though dreams were never this real. He didn't remember a dream where he could  _smell_  the blood, feel the texture of it on his fingers. The television was playing in the background, the mother was dying on the kitchen table as the dinner bubbled on the stove, slowly burning. Tomas heard footsteps, his own, he realized, as he followed the boy to the bathroom. Finally he took off the headphones and looked into the mirror. His mouth opened in horror but it was already too late. Tomas reached out, the knife slitting through the skin, blood vessels and cartilage with surprising ease. The blood came in a spray, landing on the mirror where Tomas saw the face of the man holding the knife. It wasn't him. It was a stranger, although for a second Tomas could see his own horror reflected in the mirror. At least that was what he thought he saw, until he spotted the extra pupil and a grin that wasn't human. In that moment Tomas screamed until his voice cracked raw.

He woke in his bed, drenched in sweat, shivering and sick to his stomach. His throat felt scratchy. The room was still dark and silent except for his ragged breathing and barely contained sobs. Tomas sat up, curling into a tight ball and rocking with each shuddering breath. His head was throbbing wildly and he bit down on his lip to stop a scream of frustration and despair. It was as if he was losing his mind and he knew he was getting worse. Before, he'd only had nightmares after the fits but lately... lately they came several times a week, giving him little time to get some actual sleep. His defenses were crumbling and Tomas wasn't sure how long he could keep this up. How long until he snapped? How long until he became one of the monsters from his dreams?

Tomas jerked at the thought, unconsciously biting down on his bottom lip harder, drawing blood. The taste of it made his eyes snap open and without thinking of Olivia sleeping in the next room, he blindly rushed to the bathroom, falling on his knees in front of the toilet and heaving up his measly dinner.

Once he was sure that he couldn't possibly bring up anything else, he cleaned his mouth, spitting the blood out—and wouldn't that just be fun to explain in the morning. Tomas looked up at the mirror, scared of what he would see. He was pale, his eyes red-rimmed from crying and framed by dark circles. With the split lip he looked almost as bad as he felt, but despite that there was no third pupil lurking there, no demonic smile. It was just him.

Turning off the light, Tomas softly padded towards his sister's bedroom. He peeked in, mouth open to whisper his sister's name, but she was deeply asleep and Tomas remembered how tired Olivia had been that night. There was no sense in disturbing what little sleep she could get. Wistfully, Tomas closed the door and returned to his room.

The bed sheets were damp from sweat, just like his shirt. Tomas turned on the light, confident that Olivia wouldn't wake and changed into clean clothes, then made quick work of his bed sheets. There was no way he would return to sleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes he could see the moment of realization in the other boy's eyes. He knew he was going to die just like Tomas knew he was going to kill him.

_No, that wasn't me_. Tomas shook his head with a pained grimace and reached into his backpack, pulling out one of the books Marcus had given him. He might as well use the time to do something useful.

Opening the book, Tomas was once again faced with the illustrations. It was such a contrast to the gruesome images he had just seen in his dream that Tomas froze. Then he reached out, tracing each drawing with his fingers reverently. If he squinted just right, he could see the lines shining slightly, as if there were remnants of Marcus's own soul, his energy, on the page. Tomas swallowed the lump in his throat. Maybe if he focused enough on the lines, maybe he could push the ugly images out of his head. Even if only for a moment. Lying down, Tomas started to read the words as if they were some kind of a mantra, his fingers still tracing the lines, soaking up the warmth of the pages. Slowly, very slowly, his breathing calmed and his eyes started to slip shut. When he finally succumbed to sleep, for once it was without nightmares or dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was unbetaed, so please excuse any grammar mistakes (or let me know so I can fix them. Thanks:)

* * *

„You look awful," Olivia said in the middle of breakfast and Tomas wanted to say he possibly couldn't look as bad as he felt, but thought better of it. Instead he just shrugged and buried his spoon in the soggy cereals. It was over two weeks since the terrible nightmare about people dying and while Tomas didn't have any fits since then, he had serious trouble sleeping. Every night he fell into fitful slumber only to be awakened an hour or two later by a feeling of impending doom and flashes of violent images in front of his eyes. He never remembered the details, but the cold sweet and churning of his stomach told him he didn't want to. After few nights of this hellish circle Tomas tried to stay awake two nights in a row and the third night he managed to sleep through most of the night, waking up only once. But even he knew this was not the best way to handle things. His concentration was shot to hell and he already got low scores on two different tests. It was only a question of time when one of the teachers would call Olivia. Or when Tomas would be too tired to notice a car while crossing the street. Rubbing at his eyes, willing away the now constant headache, Tomas sighed and left his breakfast untouched.

A cool hand touched his forehead and he wished it would make everything better. But wishes were for children and people who weren't freaks. He pulled away.

"There's no fever, but you still look sick," Olivia sighed, sitting down next to him and looking almost as tired as Tomas himself. "Do you want to stay home today? It's Friday anyway."

"What? No! No, I'm fine," Tomas quickly protested and pulled himself up in the chair. Friday meant it was time for the class of Latin and later on tutoring with Marcus. That was the only reprieve he had lately from the crippling fear nagging at his stomach. Being close to Marcus seemed to push the darkness into the background, whether it was in class or at his house. Right now, Tomas needed whatever break he could get, even if only for a few hours. He truly felt on the verge of a breakdown.

"It's okay, Tomas. I can write you a sick note and you could get three full days to relax. It might help." Olivia tried to convince him, hoping that some time off would be all Tomas needed.

"No, I don't want to sit home alone and think. I have tutoring after school today and I'm actually looking forward to it."

Tomas had finally told Olivia about the Certamen and the study group, although he might've omitted some little details, for example the fact he was getting private tutoring. He didn't want Olivia to think he was putting too much hope or work into it until he was sure of the outcome. Olivia still looked dubious.

"Are you sure you're up for it, Tomas? You know I don't want to push you into anything, especially not now. We can handle this, you still have three years until you need to apply to a college and by then our situation could change."

Tomas shook his head, hiding a wince when the move sparked the headache. He put on a fake smile and put a reassuring hand on Olivia's arm.

"It's fine, really. I actually enjoy the material. And like you said, it's Friday. I think I'll spend the next two days sleeping."

Olivia sighed but then gave up.

"You're probably the only kid in whole Chicago who wants to go to school when they have a free pass."

Tomas snorted and kept playing with his breakfast, pretending interest even though the cereals had almost turned into mush by now.

"Are you working tonight?" He was a bit hazy on Olivia's schedule lately. He actually preferred when she had night shifts, because then he could sit in front of the TV and stay awake. It was easier than when he had to lie in a dark room and pretend sleep until Olivia herself went to bed before turning on his bedside lamp and pulling out one of the books Marcus lent him. He liked to look at the drawings. Even though they couldn't stop the nightmares if he fell asleep, they calmed him down while awake.

"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be leaving you alone so often, but the nights are paid the best. I promise I have the whole weekend free." Olivia had two part time jobs. One was an assistant in a small law office, which was just code for 'coffee bringer' and the other was a receptionist at a hotel. The hotel job was the one giving her nightshifts, but also better pay, so Olivia didn't protest that much. Tomas was just happy that both jobs were relatively safe and cozy and his sister didn't have to work her ass off at some factory.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine," Tomas waved her off, already thinking that maybe he could stay a bit longer at Marcus's and Peter's house and soak up the positive energy. Feeling in better spirits just at the thought, he headed for school.

His better spirits lasted all about half an hour when he sat down in the history class and realized he totally forgot to do his homework. Luckily it was the first time and the teacher must've thought him a pitiful look to wave it off with a warning and a request to bring it to the next class, along with a new homework. Great, Tomas thought. He barely even came to school and already had to make up for missed work.

His day didn't continue any better. The math test in the next period was probably going to be a disaster as Tomas had to rub at his eyes every two minutes, because they were tearing up from the too sharp sun shining through the window. The worst however was the Spanish class, where Tomas's head kept falling on the desk until the teacher rapped loudly at his desk and Tomas almost jumped out of his skin. When he was asked to answer a question, of course he didn't know the answer and gained his first F in Spanish. Tomas was truly mortified and spent the rest of the hour at rapt attention, even though he was half swaying on the chair. He could barely wait for the bell announcing lunch break and as soon as it did, he rushed towards the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. He then spent the next twenty minutes outside, doing laps on the empty track. Only two more classes until Latin and hopefully that should wake him up. Because if not he would have to face a concerned Marcus as well and that was the last thing Tomas wanted.

By the time Tomas made it to the class for Latin, he truly believed coming to school was a mistake. So far his academic records would have been way better off if he had skipped the day altogether. The only thing keeping him on his feet was the hope that he will perk up once Marcus enters the room. But first he had to make it to his seat, sidestepping the leg thrown in his way and ignoring the mutter of freak coming from the seat behind him. He wasn't making any friends at the school, but to be fair, Tomas wasn't even trying. Quite the opposite. He had a hard time adjusting when he returned from Mexico, the kids were laughing at his accent and obvious unease about the different school system. Tomas was taking it pretty hard, trying to fit in. When his mom died in the accident though Tomas just gave up. There was no one else to impress only Olivia and Tomas had only so much energy left. He rather focused it on academics than on trying to socialize.

That currently left him at a point where he had to face bullies almost daily. But being a freak had its upside too... they never dared to hurt him too much, perhaps afraid that his condition could be 'catchy' or that he could flip out on them. Tomas learned quickly how to ignore them altogether and today, well... ever since entering the school it felt like walking through molasses, as if he was half asleep. He felt mostly detached, maybe a blink of an eye away from succumbing to the weariness that was plaguing him. So when a small ball of rolled up paper hit him on the back of the head he didn't even deem it worthy enough to turn around. No, his eyes were focused on the door, waiting.

* * *

When Marcus entered the class, there was a rush of movement as some students returned to their seats, putting away cell phones before they could be confiscated. Marcus had them trained well in the last few weeks and he was proud of the fact he didn't have to even raise his voice to make the kids in his class listen. He saw what some of the other teachers had to deal with, and either he got the most well behaved children or those teachers lacked any authority. It was probably the mix of both and Marcus didn't ponder it for long. His eyes landed on a familiar face in the seat at the back and his heart clenched with worry.

Tomas was looking even worse than on Monday when Marcus last saw him. Currently they had tutoring session twice a week but Marcus was ready to ask the boy to maybe join him on the Wednesdays as well. He wanted to keep an eye on Tomas, because Olivia obviously didn't have the time and the kid didn't have anyone else. Peter surprisingly didn't protest at all.

Since their first meeting he already met Tomas two more times, once they even managed to convince him to stay for dinner. The fact Tomas offered to help with the dishes seemed to impress Peter. When later that night Marcus asked him if he didn't mind the boy coming in more often, Peter just shrugged.

"I saw him put a coaster under his drink and you followed suit. I didn't think anyone could improve your manners, but he seems to be a good influence," Peter said all seriously, then laughed when Marcus grumbled something and nipped at his shoulder playfully.

"Or maybe not. Should I worry about rabies?"

Marcus decided it was a rhetorical question and ended any possible debate with a kiss. That was Monday and he was so busy with study plans and the study group he decided to ask Tomas about the extra lesson on Friday. He saw the kid only in passing in the halls and even though he looked withdrawn and pale, he didn't look  _this_  bad. For a moment Marcus wondered why was Tomas even at school, but then he saw the relief in his eyes, the sudden sagging of shoulders. There was a hint of a smile on Tomas' tired face when their eyes met and Marcus couldn't but give a small nod of acknowledgment.

All he had to do was finish this class, then he would take Tomas home and maybe finally get to the bottom of things. Something was very wrong with the kid and Marcus was afraid that if he kept putting off the questions, one day Tomas simply wouldn't come to school. Marcus already failed one child... Gabriel's face flashed in front of his eyes, momentarily replacing Tomas's. Marcus blinked and saw the curious look on Tomas's face. No, he wasn't going to fail another.

* * *

For once it seemed that time was trying to crawl to a stop. Despite Marcus's presence, Tomas couldn't push back the feeling of impending doom. It was as if something was coming, something dark and Tomas found himself curling a hand around a pencil so hard there was an unmistakable sound of it breaking. Tomas blinked then jerked when a hand landed on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Marcus was giving them a dictate and everyone was listening to his voice, heads bent over paper and writing. Everyone but Tomas who was obviously staring into nothingness and breaking writing implements.

Swallowing, Tomas looked up and gave Marcus a small nod, indicating that he was okay. Marcus didn't seem convinced, but he let it go and continued walking around the class, dictating.

Tomas looked at his paper, realizing it was empty sans a weird scribble he managed to create while pushing the pencil against paper. Blinking, Tomas thought maybe he could redo the dictate during their tutoring, maybe Marcus would give him a bit of a leeway. Getting a second F during one day was definitely not in his plans. What would his Abuela say to him if she saw his conduct today? Tomas couldn't bear to think about it. Actually, he couldn't think about much of anything. He realized with dismay that Marcus's voice sounded from afar, cutting out like a badly tuned radio.

Tomas frowned, turning his head a bit like a dog, trying to hear better. It didn't help. If anything the move made the world turn fuzzy. Tomas felt momentary panic grip at his chest as he saw the classroom fill up with white fog, but it was just a blink of an eye really. Just a millisecond as the world became a wall of white then Tomas's consciousness hurdled into darkness, leaving his body and soul behind.

* * *

The room he was in was dark... there were no windows, or if there were, they were hidden behind heavy dark drapes. It was a large room, the dominant of which was a long dinner table, filled with food. There were candles and a big, luxurious chandelier right above the table, but the light from it seemed to barely reach the walls. The room was empty and Tomas walked around it, uneasy and feeling out of place. His hands touched the artfully carved backrest of one of the chairs. He felt the soft carpet under his feet. There were portraits along the walls, portraits of important looking people. Tomas was just about to walk towards them and read the names below, when a door opened and several people walked in, chattering quietly.

Tomas froze, expecting to be yelled at or at least receiving an odd stare, but no one acknowledged his presence. The people coming in were all children. Well, not exactly children, they looked to be a bit older than Tomas himself. They were wearing preppy looking school uniforms and each and every one of them was shining with confidence and excitement. Tomas counted a total of fourteen children, all taking a seat at the table.

„Excuse me?" Tomas asked a bit sheepishly, leaning against the table right next to the youngest looking girl. She smiled and reached for a glass of water, while her other hand vanished under the table, landing on the thigh of the boy next to her. Neither of them seemed to note Tomas who was standing in the space between them and who jumped back with a yelp when said hand passed through him as if he wasn't there.

"Dios mio," Tomas uttered and shook his head, backing into the corner of the room. He didn't want to risk another contact. "This isn't real," he realized but the thought itself scared him. Never before was he aware of himself in his visions. He always saw through someone else's eyes. 'I want to wake up' he thought and closed his eyes, but it didn't work. He was still in the room, the kids were seated and the door opened to admit three other people. Two were obviously servers, bringing in two huge bowls. No, those weren't bowls, Tomas realized. They looked awfully similar to the urns he saw at the cemetery where they buried his mother. But that wasn't making much sense. The two urns were put down on the table, one on each end. The two servers left as silently as they came. The chatter in the room stopped, all faces turned towards the man walking towards the head of the table.

Tomas followed their gaze and felt as if someone just walked over his grave. It was a strange tingling feeling under his skin, a cold wave rushing over his whole body. The man looked to be in his forties, whole head shaved to hide a bald spot. He was wearing the black attire of a priest, complete with the white collar. The man passed Tomas by mere inches and Tomas got a chance to look straight into his eyes. They were dark and dead and the creepy smile the man was sporting only made them look so much more horrifying.

Tomas pushed himself back against the wall, praying to all heavens that the man couldn't see him. As if reading his mind, the man's mouth twitched in a sick grin and Tomas could swear his eyes flashed yellow, but it was gone in a second. The man - and Tomas couldn't think of him as a priest, as a man of God - turned away from Tomas and took his place at the head of the table. He didn't sit down though. Instead he spread his arms.

"What a sight you all are for my sore eyes!" he spoke, his voice silky smooth, but Tomas grimaced, feeling as if each syllable was a small tendril of darkness reaching out towards the unassuming students.

"So much youth, intelligence and potential in one room. I'm honored to have you all here, my dear children." The man smiled and Tomas felt like throwing up. Couldn't anyone see the sickly green tendrils reaching out, touching their ears with each word? The darkness was worming itself inside their heads, but the students didn't react. Their eyes were almost feverish with anticipation and Tomas could see all the hubris around them. How the words, the school, everything was coveting to those children, playing up their desires and hunger for power.

"You're the brightest students of this school and this is your last year. In a few short weeks you'll graduate and leave for your summer vacations at exotic islands or on a cruise around the world," he smiled and the students gave a small laugh. Tomas pushed himself away from the wall and headed towards the table, his steps slow and deliberate, not wanting to bring attention to himself but needing to be closer. There was something pulling him in, like a whisper. He couldn't see a small ghostly tendril of sickness sneaking over the floor, towards him.

"Once the summer is over, you'll all go to your apprenticeships and from there on, it will be a smooth ride to wherever your heart wants to take you. And believe me when I say I know  _exactly_ what each of your heart's desire."

There was a wave of unconscious nods and Tomas caught himself nodding along. Startled, he took a step aside, away from the tendril.

The man took in a deep breath, as if smelling the air, then let it out, satisfied.

"You see, I can feel it.  _The ambition. The drive_. You're all so hungry to prove yourself to the world, to your parents. All that entitlement to power, ooh..." the man licked his lips. "I can almost  _taste_  it. You're the future of this country, the future of your families. All you need is a little  _something_. And that's exactly why you're here tonight."

There was a shudder of mutters across the table, curious looks being exchanged, maybe even a hint of worry in some of those eyes. Tomas swallowed. He could see some of the tendrils attached to the students faltering as doubt was starting to appear and he almost applauded, his mind shouting  _'Yes! Doubt him! He's a liar!'_

But the words never left his mouth and as the man inclined his head in thought, Tomas noticed another flash of yellow in his eyes.

"I know what you must be thinking. What does father Simon think he can offer us?" the man looked into the face of each individual at the table and Tomas could see the tendrils gaining strength. "Well, I have only one word for you. Power."

As if on cue, the two servers reentered the room and silently walked toward the urns. Father Simon turned his head and Tomas could've sworn he was looking right at him. As if in slow motion, the corner of his right eye darkened and Tomas's own eyes widened as he watched the appearance of the third pupil. The students at the table noticed too as there were several startled yelps, but no one stood up to leave. It was as if they were glued to their chairs. Even Tomas couldn't take a step back, his legs frozen. He looked down and was horrified to see that one of the tendrils managed to wrap around him. He could feel it crawling under his shirt, up his spine, the touch on his skin leaving a burning cold sensation. He felt a touch on the back of his skull and it was as if suddenly there was a myriad voices inside his mind, all screaming at him to run. But Tomas couldn't and neither could anyone else in that room.

The two servers now stood at the table, each lifting the top off of the urn.

"Feast, my children," Father Simon said, once again spreading his arms in an open gesture. The servers reached into the urns, grabbing a fistful of dark ash and throwing it in the air.

" _Vocare Pulvere."_

For a second nothing happened. It was as if time itself stopped... the ash was floating in the air above the heads of the confused students. It looked hypnotic and Tomas couldn't let his eyes off of the soft pattern that was being created, even as the logical part of his brain shouted that this wasn't possible, it wasn't natural. But that part of Tomas's brain was deafened by the voices, the soft scratching sound at the back of his skull.

He watched as the ash formed into one big dark cloud floating above the table and the students' heads. Then the cloud broke up into smaller pieces and like predators smelling blood, each clump headed for the face of a student. Tomas opened his mouth in a shout of warning, but no sound came out.

The ash took a form of a worm and pressed against sealed lips until they opened, pushing inside, driving out all the air.

Tomas gasped, feeling the breath being taken from his own lungs, feeling the sick smell of death enveloping him in its embrace. All he could see was the horror in the eyes of the others. He heard the manic laughter of father Simon and felt the darkness take over him, the voices inside his head erupting in a scream so loud it blew the world away.


	5. Chapter 5

He came to with a gasp and into a room filled with stunned silence. The dichotomy of it was so abrupt that Tomas didn't know if he was alive or dead, where was up and down. All he knew was fear, the sick taste in his mouth and his lungs screaming for air. The silence was broken as suddenly as it appeared and Tomas had a fleeting thought that maybe it was just him going deaf for a second, because when it ended there was a rush of voices all around him, the beating of his own heart echoing inside his skull as if he'd just ran a marathon and over all of that the soothing voice of Marcus Keane, muttering his name over and over.

Tomas blinked, his sight clearing of the blurriness of tears and he saw Marcus's face mere inches from his own, blue eyes filled with worry staring right into his.

'Tomas, you back with me?' Marcus said and Tomas wanted to say yes, but he felt a brush of fingers on the back of his neck and in that moment all he could think of was the dark tendril circling his neck, the ash soaring towards his mouth. Tomas yelped and pulled back so violently he sent his chair crashing to the floor. He stumbled and if not for Marcus's quick reflexes he would've followed it to the ground. But strong arms grabbed the front of his shirt and wrapped around his waist, hoisting him to a standing position.

The classroom fell dead silent and Tomas caught sight of one of the students, a girl that used to smile at him sometimes. Right now her eyes were wide with stunned fear. Tomas turned his head a bit, hiding his face in Marcus's chest, but he still saw the looks on the other students' faces. They were curious, scared and some even pitying. Tomas couldn't handle it. He swallowed down the nausea and with trembling arms pushed away from Marcus, feeling a painful pang at having to let go of his only comfort, but he needed to leave. The atmosphere in the classroom was choking him almost as much as the ash did.

"Lo siento," Tomas croaked out through dry lips and without sparing a look at anyone, he rushed out of the room, half stumbling, half running into the hall. He could hear Marcus call out his name, but he didn't stop, couldn't. Everything hit him at once... the images he witnessed in the dream, the fact he had a fit in the middle of his favorite class. All the looks filled with pity and fear, so similar to the look on his mother face just before she sent him away as a child. Then there was Marcus, who he flinched away from like a fearful child and Tomas was sure this would be the last straw and the man would just wash his hands off of him.

Choking back tears of pain and despair, Tomas found himself in the boys' bathroom. He didn't even know how he got there, but the moment his knees hit the floor in one of the stalls he let all the sickness of the last moments go.

* * *

It was so subtle Marcus barely noticed the change. One moment he was reading from the book, giving the class a dictate, the next he heard a pencil drop from someone's hand and roll across the floor. He wouldn't have even paused if not for the surprised gasp behind his back. Marcus turned and he saw Mary McNeal staring towards another desk, eyes wide and one hand covering her mouth. Marcus frowned and followed her gaze, then stopped his dictating of Latin in lieu of uttering a proper British curse. Several other heads popped up from the papers, curious. But Marcus wasn't paying them anymore attention.

His eyes were on Tomas, who was sitting rigidly in his chair. His chest was heaving as if his body had trouble figuring out how to breathe properly. The fingers holding the pencil just a moment ago were lax and slightly trembling. What was worst however was the white film covering his pupils. Marcus put the book away and was by Tomas's side in three quick steps, leaning over and watching those eyes. It was almost hypnotizing, how the white fog seemed to move almost in waves, but never lifting. Not even when Marcus laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. He felt a shiver run over Tomas's body, so hard the chair almost shook with him, but there was no other reaction.

Marcus called his name several times and as a minute passed, he became aware of movement around him. Some of the kids left their seats to get a better look, some scuttled back, as far away from Tomas as possible. He even saw a girl crossing herself and mutter a prayer and Marcus was hard tempted to do the same but knew it would only make the situation worse. He moved his hand up to Tomas's neck, feeling the rapid but strong pulse under his fingers and he forced himself to pull away and try and calm the class down before someone went rushing for help. Tomas didn't need any more spectators than he already had.

"Should we call the school nurse, sir?" Mary peeped up, looking worried.

Marcus shook his head.

"No. It's okay, he should be fine in a moment."

Marcus noted a familiar click somewhere from behind and whirled around, eyes hard with fury when he saw Andrew hastily putting away his cell phone. Marcus didn't say a word, he just reached out with his hand. The look on his face had to be dangerous, because Andrew took an instinctive step back.

"So help me, Andrew..." Marcus growled and in the next moment he had the cell phone in his pocket. He gave a sweeping look at the rest of the class, glad to see no one else was stupid enough to try and record Tomas in this state.

"Get back to your seats, now!" he ordered and the kids did just that, looking sheepish and intimidated. Marcus couldn't care less. He focused his attention back to Tomas, who was still sitting motionless, his face paler than before. There was a sheen of cold sweat on his face and Marcus put his hand back on the tense shoulder.

"Tomas? Come back," he said softly. Another minute passed and Marcus was on the verge of asking one of the kids to run for the nurse, because this fit was definitely longer than the first one he witnessed. But just as quickly as it came, the white fog cleared from Tomas eyes and the boy gasped for breath.

"Tomas?"

The look in his eyes was filled with such horror and confusion that Marcus's heart almost broke in half. The brown of Tomas's irises was barely visible as his pupils were blown wide, but Marcus was relieved to see them slowly adjust to the lighting and return to normal size.

"Are you back with me?" Marcus asked but there was still no answer. He automatically moved his hand from Tomas's shoulder to cup his face, in the process brushing against the skin on his neck. It was as if someone sent an electric current through his fingers. Tomas jerked back knocking down his chair, fear clearly palpable in his whole body. Marcus barely had a chance to catch him as Tomas wavered dangerously. He pulled the boy close grabbing at his shirt and even through the material he could feel the wild beating of the heart, could hear the rasped breath. Tomas was panicking and Marcus wasn't even surprised when he suddenly bolted and ran out of the room. He was almost out of the door himself when he remembered that there was a class full of kids he was responsible for.

"Okay, Andrew, you're in charge. I'll be back in a moment and I better find you all sitting in your seats and reading quietly, or you can say goodbye to your phone. Am I clear?"

Andrew, who could be labeled as the class leader slash bully was rather attached to his phone, so he quickly nodded.

"Good. I'd rather not explain to the principal how your phone ended in the toilet," Marcus added for good measure, thinking he still had to remember to wipe the photos he took of Tomas before giving back the phone. Thinking of Tomas, Marcus left the class behind and rushed down the hall. He didn't catch sight of Tomas but based on the sickly look on the kid's face he thought the bathroom was a safe bet. He wasn't mistaken, as the sound of coughing and retching welcomed him as soon as he opened the door. Grimacing, Marcus stood in the stall door, waiting until Tomas finished.

"Tomas?" he spoke when Tomas sagged back, leaning against the wall, spent. His eyes were closed and he looked more miserable than a college student after a party binge.

Marcus went over to the sink, grabbed several paper towels and soaked them in cold water then he returned to Tomas and squatted down to his level.

"Here," he nudged the towels into Tomas's hand and was relieved when the boy opened his eyes and didn't flinch away.

Tomas looked at the towels with confusion until Marcus pushed them into his hand and pointed towards his face. Tomas finally understood and ran the towels over his face, pausing when the cold material touched his face. When he was done, he threw them to the toilet and let out a sigh. His eyes seemed a bit clearer at least. Marcus put his hand on Tomas's bent knee.

"How do you feel?"

"Like a fool," Tomas spoke, his voice still a bit shaky. Marcus squeezed the knee in silent support.

"Is this the first time it happened in class?"

"N-no, but... no one noticed before. This..." Tomas shook his head, his breath hitching and Marcus could see he was working himself up again.

"Hey, none of that. Slow deep breaths. Come on, in and out."

Marcus took several deep breaths and let them slowly out, encouraging Tomas to do the same, while trying to stop the grimace on his face. Deep breaths in the boys' bathroom really weren't such a good idea. Tomas had to reach the same conclusion as after the third breath he scrunched up his face and gave a miserable chuckle.

"I'm sorry," he started apologizing once again and Marcus wanted to shake him and tell him to stop. Instead he just shook his head and reached out, ruffling the kid's hair.

"None of that," he repeated, his hand sliding down to Tomas's' face. His skin was clammy and cold and Marcus knew sitting on the bathroom floor wasn't going to help. "Can you get up?"

Tomas gave a small nod and with Marcus's help stood on shaky feet. For a moment he looked like he would be sick again and Marcus just stood there supporting his weight and giving him time. He didn't like how shaky the boy was, he didn't remember such a reaction the last time.

"Is it always like this?" Marcus asked as he led Tomas to the sink and let him clean up properly. Tomas gave a hesitant shake of head.

"This was... the worst so far," he muttered and his hand reached up to the back of his neck, as if feeling for something.

Marcus bit his lip. He had too many questions to ask, but frankly Tomas looked like he needed to lie down as soon as possible and Marcus still needed to finish his class. A quick look at the watch told him there were still twenty minutes till the bell. With a sigh, he ran a hand over his face then came to a decision.

"Okay, let's go."

"No, I... I can't go back to class," Tomas protested and Marcus quickly shook his head to stop him from panicking again.

"Not the class. You're going to see the nurse."

Tomas blanched.

"I don't want to."

"That wasn't a request, Tomas. You look ready to collapse. I want someone to check you out before I take you home."

Tomas blinked, obviously having a hard time following.

"I'm fine," he protested and Marcus couldn't stop the chuckle.

"Sure you are. And I'm St. Peter on the horse. Come on... you let her check you out while I make sure the others haven't staged a coup and demolished my classroom. Then I'll take you home and we will talk. Okay?"

Tomas gave a hesitant nod and didn't protest when Marcus put a supporting arm around his shoulders, heading out into the hall and down to the nurse's office. However, once they could see the door to the office, Tomas balked.

"I don't want Olivia to know..."

Marcus frowned.

"The nurse will call her if you say what happened. Please... I don't want her to worry." Tomas looked once again ready to bolt so Marcus thought discretion was the wisest thing. Once they were back at the house and Tomas calmed down he could talk some sense into him or call Olivia herself.

"Don't worry about it. I'll figure something out. Come on. Quicker you get there, quicker it's over."

When they reached the office, Marcus told the nurse that Tomas wasn't feeling well and had been sick. He asked her to keep an eye on him until the period ended and he would drive Tomas home.

Tomas threw Marcus a grateful glance, before the nurse hustled him towards the chair and started asking questions, arms crossed and a stern look on her face when Tomas seemed to hesitate with his answers. Marcus hid a smirk, the nurse reminding him too much of the nuns at the boys' home, equally strict and immune to bullshit. He gave Tomas a small wave and a grin behind the nurse's back and beat a hasty retreat.

* * *

The school nurse whose name was Rachel was in her mid forties and a mother of two grown up boys. Tomas knew that, because he already met her a few times before and she never forgot to mention her sons. Mostly it was when Tomas tried to lie to her about how he really felt. Her sons must've taught her well, because the woman had great instincts. Tomas was worried that she would somehow figure out what happened this time too, but luck seemed to be on his side at least.

"Were you sick last night too? You look as if you hadn't slept a wink," she tutted as she pushed a thermometer into his ear and Tomas had to fight his urge to pull away when he felt her hands on his throat. The memory of the tendrils wrapping around him was just too strong.

"Tomas? An answer would be nice," she reminded him sternly, though she looked satisfied at the reading from the thermometer.

"Sorry," Tomas muttered. "Yeah, I... I was sick last night, couldn't sleep," he said and didn't even have to lie. In truth, he hadn't slept for almost two days and his stomach felt like on water for quite some time. He only wished it was all caused by a simple stomach bug, instead of his mind going crazy.

"Why on earth didn't you stay at home? Don't tell me your sister sent you to school like this."

Tomas blushed a bit.

"I didn't tell her. We had some tests today; I thought I could get through."

Rachel rolled her eyes and handed him a cup of water.

"How did that work out for you?"

Tomas nodded his thanks for the water and sighed. Truth be told his day would have gone way better if he didn't set foot in school. He could still see the look on his fellow students faces and wasn't sure how he will be able to return come Monday. Maybe the earth would open and swallow him whole by then... or someone will realize he was going mad and lock him up in a mental hospital. Tomas truly wasn't sure which option would he prefer more.

"You boys are too stubborn for your own good," Rachel sighed and pointed towards the cot in the corner of the room.

"Go lie down until your teacher comes to collect you."

"I'd rather stay sitting if that's no trouble," Tomas said softly. His body was screaming for a soft bed but Tomas knew the moment he got comfortable his mind would catch up with his body and he would succumb to sleep. He wasn't sure what would happen then, if nightmares would plague him or not, but he wasn't about to risk it here, at the school nurse's office. There was still the distant feel of threat lurking just around the corner, especially since Marcus left. No, if Tomas let his guard down in the next few hours, it would be in the safety only Marcus could offer.

"Are you still feeling peaky?" Rachel asked with a frown and Tomas shrugged, taking a sip of water, happy the trembling of his hand wasn't too visible anymore.

"Just don't want to lie down."

"Okay, suit yourself. If you feel like puking, please do let me know beforehand."

Tomas grimaced at the thought, hoping he wouldn't have to.

"I'll just write a note for your sister. And I better get a call from her by Monday, is that understood?"

Now Tomas didn't even try to suppress the moan. Great. He would have to tell Olivia now. If not the whole truth at least some of it, or he would never hear the end of it from both women come Monday. He could see Rachel grinning as she sit behind her desk, but he didn't really have the energy to glare at her. She was just doing her job after all and it wasn't like Olivia wouldn't figure out something was wrong the second she laid her eyes on him.

With a sigh, Tomas slumped down in the chair a bit, his eyes locked on the half full cup of water in his hand. The surface of the water rippled a bit as Tomas felt a shiver run through his body. Something bad was near and he felt as if the sickness of the dream was getting closer. Tomas looked up, eyes wide and looked towards the door. There was a small window on it but he wasn't in clear sight of it. Still he caught sight of something dark passing by, walking down the hall. Tomas's hand instinctively reached up towards the back of his head. He could feel it, the light push as if something was trying to get in... a whisper of air behind his left ear. It was gone as quickly as it came, but it left Tomas shaking, breaking out in cold sweat. Tomas's hand holding the cup clenched in reaction. The water spilled out of the cup, down onto his pant leg and the sudden wetness brought Tomas back to reality. He cursed and put the cup away.

He was still dabbing at his leg with some paper towels trying to get it dry when the bell rung. Tomas looked up, expecting to see Marcus in the door, then calling himself a fool. He would be lucky if Marcus even appeared. He could have just as well changed his mind and just called Olivia to come pick him up. Who would even want to bother with a freak like Tomas?

As the minutes went by and there was no sight of Marcus, Tomas's doubts started to grew stronger and the nausea was back full force. Tomas fidgeted on the chair and Rachel looked up at him from the paperwork.

"You look a bit green around the gills. Feeling sick?"

Tomas gave a slight shake of head then stood up.

"I forgot to pack my stuff and I left my bag in the class. I need to go back and-"

"And nothing. Sit your ass back in that chair, Tomas. I'm not letting you leave without an adult supervision. It's your choice - your teacher or I'm calling your sister right now."

Tomas grudgingly sat back in the chair. He had a feeling Rachel would call Olivia no matter what, though the joke was on her. If his memory served right, Olivia was in her afternoon classes. She would have her phone turned to silent, especially as she was supposed to have a few tests of her own.

"See, there was no rush. He's already here," Rachel said a minute later as the door opened and Marcus walked in. Tomas was surprised when Marcus put Tomas's own backpack into his lap.

"I just threw everything from the desk into your pack. I hope you aren't too OCD about that."

"No... thanks," Tomas uttered, feeling instantly a bit better. He couldn't understand why... what made Marcus so special, but it was like the moment he appeared there was some kind of a shield in the room. It was as if a vice had loosened around Tomas's chest and he managed to give a small smile in return.

Marcus looked like he wanted to reach out and pat Tomas on the shoulder, but he obviously remembered Tomas's earlier reaction, so instead he turned towards the nurse, missing the look of regret on Tomas's face.

"Is he good to go?" Marcus asked and Rachel gave Tomas a once over look, seemingly thinking through her response.

"As long as you make sure his sister get's my note, sure. Looks like he caught the stomach bug which is going around." The nurse handed Marcus a closed envelope, then turned to Tomas who was already trying to make his way towards the door.

"Drink plenty of fluids, stick to plain food and for heaven's sake, get some sleep. If you don't feel better by Monday, your sister better take you to a doctor. Understood?"

"Yes, madam," Tomas dutifully nodded. "Thank you. Can we go now?" he turned towards Marcus, hoping they could be already gone. The nurse glared at him, but then gave him a dismissing wave.

"Get lost, both of you."

Marcus didn't protest, he just nodded his thanks and followed Tomas out the door. Once in the hall they exchanged an amused look at the shared relief of escaping her clutches so easily.

The hallway wasn't empty, there were other students lounging around, picking up their things or milling in small groups, chatting about weekend plans, about a movie they'll watch or a party they'll attend. Tomas heard all that and felt a pang of regret knowing he would never fit in like that. The others had friends and parties to attend to... Tomas was heading home with his teacher for private tutoring in a dead language and the funny thing was that was the highlight of his whole week.

Not to mention he just managed to make a fool of himself in front of the whole class. He knew that come Monday most of the school would know what happened and point at him behind his back, talking about the freak totally losing it. The fact he was accompanied by Marcus like a child who needed a guardian wasn't going to help his reputation either, but Tomas felt too lousy to ask Marcus for some space or pretend that he wasn't walking so close to be within reach in case Tomas stumbled.

Tomas thought he could breathe easier once they stepped out of the school and in a way, it was true. Open spaces were always easier to handle than closed rooms... the look at the vast sky above helped to put things into perspective. Yet today Tomas still felt like he was walking the plank and it was making him paranoid. He could feel the hair at the back of his neck stand at attention and it was eerily similar to the feeling of the tendril... Tomas swallowed and unconsciously moved a bit closer to Marcus, seeking protection.

"You okay?" Marcus asked and put a hand on Tomas arm, gently steering him towards his parked car.

Tomas licked at his dry lips and wanted to nod, but couldn't. His eyes were pulled towards a black limousine parked at the other end of the parking lot. The car itself was impressive, but that wasn't what drew Tomas attention. No, it was the sickly yellow mist that was surrounding it.

Tomas was so focused on the car he wasn't paying attention and stumbled over his own feet. Marcus grabbed his arm to stop him from falling for the umpteenth time that day, but Tomas couldn't feel embarrassment. He just felt thankful because the touch helped to ground him and when he looked back up, the black limousine was just another normal car.

"Come on," Marcus nudged him, the concern palpable on his face, radiating from his skin and Tomas wanted to tell him not to worry, that he was fine, but he never was a good liar.

When Tomas finally settled into the passenger seat, he thought the nightmare was over, that he could relax and rest. He leaned his head back in the seat and as Marcus started the car and slowly drove out of the parking lot, Tomas chanced a look back at the school entrance.

Time seemed to come to a halt. In slow motion, Tomas saw the principal stepping out of the front door and holding it open for a woman in her forties. She looked distinguished, rich. She also had a dark cloudy shadow perched at her shoulder and a wispy yellow tendril wrapped around her neck and ear. Tomas blinked, feeling the urge to stop the car and get out, to warn the woman from the thing that was attached to her. But that urge vanished as quickly as it came. Because walking right behind the woman, Tomas spotted the black attire of a priest and the white collar. Well, it should have been white, but for Tomas it was pulsating blood red. The man wasn't just clothed in black attire... he was emanating pure darkness. For a moment that was all Tomas could see... it was like a magnet, pulling his mind inside the hell. The scratching at the back of his skull intensified and he could almost make out the whispers of dozen voices... all the dark shadows trying to force their humans to do things they really shouldn't.

Tomas was gnashing his teeth, one hand flying to his head in an attempt to regain some control, to stop the voices and the ensuing pain they brought. He could hear Marcus's voice from afar and it helped... Tomas blinked and the darkness relented, its pull weakened. Tomas took a deep breath then almost forget to let it out. He finally saw the face of the man walking out of his school. It was no one else than father Simon.


	6. Chapter 6

Tomas thought he must've been mistaken. His mouth opened in protest, whole body shaking. The car almost came to a halt as Marcus grabbed his shoulder, trying to get his attention.

"Tomas!" he called and by the urgency in his voice it wasn't the first time.

"Drive," Tomas croaked. "Just... drive!" he said with more force than he had any right to use. To his surprise Marcus listened and soon the car was driving down the road, leaving the school and all its darkness behind.

Tomas leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. His heart was beating too fast and too loud, almost drowning out his own thoughts.

_'What the hell was that? Was it real? Was father Simon real and if so what was he doing at his school?'_  Tomas's head was full of questions and the dawning horror of the possibility that maybe the things he saw had some basis in reality. But no, that wasn't something Tomas was ready to accept, or even think about.

It must've been just a product of his imagination. Maybe he really crossed the line of too many nights without sleep and didn't even realize that. He read somewhere hallucinations were one of the signs of sleep deprivation... suddenly Tomas cursed himself for not asking Marcus to take a look. Maybe he would've told him there was no priest filled with evil patting the shoulder of his principal.

"Are you okay?" Marcus asked after a moment and Tomas risked a look his way. He didn't seem angry, only concerned.

"Yeah. Sorry. I... I thought I saw something, but..." Tomas rubbed at his eyes tiredly. A quick look in the rearview mirror told him he looked like a raccoon that spent the last hour crying. He cringed at his own image and turned his head away from Marcus, towards the passing road. "It was nothing. Probably just not enough sleep," he muttered, feeling he owed the man at least some explanation.

"Any reason why you're not sleeping? Marcus asked and Tomas shrugged.

"Stomach bug."

Marcus snorted.

"Right. Didn't you forget who came up with that lie?"

Tomas looked at him, curious.

"Why did you?"

"Why did I what?"

"You didn't have to lie to the nurse. Any other teacher would've told her I had a fit, whether I liked it or not."

This time it was Marcus who shrugged.

"Maybe I don't think it was a fit at all," Marcus said carefully and Tomas straightened in the seat, his previous thoughts and worries coming back with a rush.

"What else would it be?" he asked, feigning only mild interest even though he felt like jumping out of his skin.

"I'm not sure yet," Marcus sighed and Tomas could tell he didn't want to breach the topic in the car, but he really didn't care.

"Well, what are the options?" Tomas pressed, unable to let it go even though he was scared of the answer.

Marcus stayed silent, obviously thinking of what to say. The silence itself seemed to be enough of an answer for Tomas though.

"You think it's all just in my head, right?" Tomas said, anger and disappointment coloring his voice, but in the end giving way to weariness and acceptance. "You think I'm crazy, a freak. Just like everyone else."

For a second the car sped up as Marcus obviously put too much pressure on the gas pedal then it slowed down almost to a crawl. When he turned towards Tomas, he was visibly trying to suppress anger and Tomas almost cringed as he saw the blue streaks of electricity in Marcus's usual calming gold color.

"First off," Marcus spoke with a surprisingly calm tone, even though it carried an edge of authority. "I don't want to hear you using that word ever again Tomas. Not when you're talking about yourself or anyone else. Understood?"

Marcus looked at Tomas imploringly and waited until Tomas gave a very reluctant nod.

"Second, no, of course I don't think you're a freak. How can you even say that?"

"'Cause I am," Tomas muttered under his breath but obviously not quietly enough. Marcus gripped the wheel harder. It was obvious he wanted to stop the car, but there was no good place for that. Tomas hoped he would just let it go, but of course Marcus didn't.

"Why do you think you're a freak Tomas?" he asked after a moment and Tomas could see the blue sparks vanishing, turning into grey dullness. Marcus looked tired and Tomas hoped it didn't mean he was tired of him. The fact he could essentially see Marcus's emotions without having to look at his face was just a reminder of exactly what was wrong with him.

"I'm not blind," Tomas said deprecatingly, although the feeling wasn't aimed at Marcus. "I see things."

_'More things that I will ever admit.'_

"I saw the way the other kids were looking at me."

Marcus sighed.

"They were just startled. A bunch of teenagers that don't know better. They'll get over it," Marcus tried to placate him, but Tomas shook his head.

"They won't. I saw the same look in my mother's eyes after one of the fits. I don't know what she saw or what I did, but... she sent me away then. After Abuela," Tomas swallowed, still feeling the tearing pain inside his chest every time he remembered his sweet old Abuela, dying in that hospital room, alone. Marcus put a hand on his shoulder and Tomas looked up at him.

"After I returned from Mexico, she still looked at me that way."

"What way?"

"With fear. My own mother... she never 'got over it'. So how can I expect something different from strangers?"

_'How can I expect anything else from you?'_  was the true question, because Tomas couldn't care less for the opinion of his class mates, but for some reason the opinion of the man sitting next to him seemed to matter as much as his own mother's.

And by some miracle, the man could probably read his mind.

"I'm not that easy to scare off, Tomas. I promise." Marcus said with such conviction that Tomas felt a bit of hope surge inside him.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Tomas replied without hesitation, surprising both of them.

"Then trust me with this. You are not a freak and I will never become afraid of you. Quite possibly afraid for you, but never of you. Do you understand?"

Tomas felt his throat closing off and couldn't find the breath to answer, so he just nodded. Marcus smiled, accepting the answer. Just like that the mood in the car lifted a bit and they spent the rest of the ride in comfortable silence, each lost in their own mind.

* * *

When they arrived at the house, Marcus barely suppressed the urge to just grab Tomas by the arm and lead him right towards the guest room. The boy seemed to be doing okay in the car after their talk, but once he stood up he looked about ready to fall. Marcus was sure to walk within catching distance, biting his lip when Tomas stumbled but caught himself in time. With a sigh, Marcus closed the door behind him, relieved to be home - and to be able to call a place his home after so many years without one.

"You can lie down on the couch or get some sleep in the guest room," Marcus spoke, catching Tomas by surprise. The boy looked at him with owlishly huge eyes, seemingly not even realizing he was waving in the air.

"Sorry?" Tomas asked as if unsure he heard right.

Marcus rolled his eyes.

"You look half asleep already, Tomas. The nurse told you to rest. So go upstairs, or you can sleep here. Up to you."

For a moment Tomas looked at Marcus as if he'd grown a second head, then when he realized Marcus was being serious he looked offended, almost like a petulant child. Marcus had to smirk, because he could just imagine the fifteen year old boy crossing his arms and stumping with his foot screaming it was not his naptime. The humor of the situation however quickly evaporated as Tomas seemed to stagger and had to catch his balance on the nearby table.

"I'm fine," he growled, holding up a hand before Marcus could even cross the room. "If I wanted to nap, I could've gone home," Tomas said and slowly put his backpack on the table. "I already missed the dictate. I should learn at least something today." He started ruffling through his bag, grimacing when he saw that Marcus indeed wasn't kidding and that all his stuff was just thrown in without care.

Marcus was about to argue there was no way Tomas could retain anything in his brain in his current state when he noted the barely contained yawn and the slightly shaking hands and rethought his strategy.

"Okay, suit yourself. But I need to get me some coffee and food first. I'm not tutoring anyone with grumbling stomach."

Tomas blinked, surprised and relieved that he didn't have to fight. He even managed a small smile at Marcus.

"Do you want something to drink or eat?"

"Can I get some coffee too?" Tomas asked with hope. The caffeine might keep him awake a bit longer. Marcus snorted.

"No way. You can have tea, water or juice. Pick or leave it."

"Black tea then?" Tomas said and Marcus gave him a stink eye, knowing well he was still trying to get at least a bit of caffeine into his system.

"Don't push it."

"Water's fine then, thank you," Tomas conceded with a sigh and pulled out some of his books. Maybe he could work on his history homework while Marcus was off playing cook.

Marcus watched as Tomas settled down on the couch with a book in one hand and pencil and notepad in the other. Satisfied that he was at least sitting down and not in danger of knocking his head on something while left alone, Marcus headed for the kitchen. He prepared himself a strong black coffee and some ginger ale and water for Tomas, thinking it would help settle his stomach.

Marcus padded silently towards the living room and peeked in. Just like he expected, Tomas's head was slumped down and he was leaning precariously towards one side. The pencil and notepad already slipped from his hands but he didn't seem to notice. With a sigh, Marcus headed for the closet and pulled out a spare pillow and blanket, then returned to the couch. He put the pillow down and gently pulled the book out of lax fingers. Tomas muttered something under his breath and Marcus paused.

"It's okay, Tomas. Rest. You're safe," he said softly and maneuvered Tomas into a lying position, lifting his feet onto the couch and covering him with a blanket. All through this Tomas didn't utter a word of protest or let on that he was awake. But as Marcus tucked him in and ran a hand over his hair, Tomas seemed to lean into the touch.

"Sleep. You're safe here," Marcus whispered, then headed back to the kitchen. He was almost out of the room when he heard a soft 'Gracias' from the couch.

* * *

When Peter walked into the house, it was to a complete silence. It surprised him a bit, because he knew Tomas was supposed to be over for his tutoring lesson. He headed straight towards the living room and was about to say hello, when he spotted the sleeping form on the couch. Marcus was nowhere to be seen but there was evidence of his presence in the form of a half empty coffee mug on the table and a sketchpad forgotten in the chair. Peter sighed and looked at the boy lying on the couch, half the blanket on the floor. It would've been an adorable picture if not for the frown marring Tomas's face and the dark circles visible under his eyes. With a sigh, Peter leaned down and picked up the blanket and threw it over Tomas where it had previously been, then headed for the kitchen.

He had to pause at the door when he saw Marcus at the stove, humming quietly to himself as he was stirring something in a pot. Marcus looked relaxed and right at home and Peter couldn't be happier. He vividly remembered how skittish the man was the first few weeks when they moved in together. He touched every part of the house, every little trinket, but treated them all as if he was just a guest. It took some time until he realized it was his home and there was no need for that. Peter crossed the kitchen, this time making enough sound to warn Marcus of his presence before he wrapped his arms around him in a hug.

"Campbell's soup? Really? Why did I bring Chinese then?" Peter asked, eyeing the empty can on the counter and taking a whiff of the familiar smell of chicken soup.

Marcus leaned into the hug, turning his face in for a kiss.

"I wanted something easier for Tomas. But I'm also hungry for some Kung Pao."

"Mhm... so tell me darling, are you trying a new method of tutoring?"

Marcus raised an eyebrow.

"You know, the one where you sleep with the book under your pillow and magically absorb the knowledge through osmosis?"

"Does that work?" Marcus asked with a grin, but that quickly vanished. "The kid had a hard day. Needs all the sleep he can get."

Peter hummed, resting his chin on Marcus's shoulder while he was stirring the pot.

"I thought you would at least consult me first before we adopt a kid," Peter joked but the humor left him as he felt Marcus tense. Peter pulled back and leaned against the counter.

"What's going on, Marcus?"

Marcus turned off the stove and sit down on the table, an action that would usually drive Peter crazy, but right now he didn't even notice.

"The kid is driving himself to an early grave and frankly, I'm not sure what to do about it," Marcus said with a sigh as he ran his hands over his face. Peter gave his shoulder a light squeeze then sat down right next to Marcus so their shoulders were touching.

"Tell me what happened and we will figure it out."

So Marcus told him about what happened, how it freaked him out to see Tomas with that white fog covering his eyes and unable to bring him back for such a long time.

"He looked so much like that homeless woman I saw few months after Gabriel... I was half expecting him to start talking with a different voice." Marcus was clearly upset and Peter wished he could just make his troubles go away but knew it didn't work that way.

"Are you sure it was the same? Tomas didn't say a word... maybe it really was just a fit."

"No, it was not. I'm not making this up, Peter," Marcus turned to him with fire in his eyes. "I can  _feel_  the difference. Something is trying to use that kid as a conduit and I'm not sure whether it's good or evil, but it isn't doing him any favors."

"Did you try actually  _asking_  him about it?"

Now Marcus gave him a glare that clearly said he thought Peter was trying to humor him. Peter almost laughed at the look, but in a moment of self-preservance he bit his tongue and kept silent. Marcus sighed.

"Of course I asked, right after the first time it happened. Whole lot of good that did. Tomas said he didn't remember anything and that was the end of conversation."

Peter rolled his eyes.

"You're both stubborn fools. He barely knew you then, of course he wasn't going to be spilling his guts to you. It takes time... and the right question."

"Well Sherlock, why don't you ask him? I'm a bit leery of giving him a third degree when he can barely walk straight."

Peter had to admit this might not have been the best time, though he also wondered if maybe Tomas could let something slip more easily with his guard down. It wasn't exactly ethical, mind, but Peter was a curious man and seeing how invested Marcus was in the kid made him want to get some answers as well.

„Okay, how about this? You set the table, I'll go change and we can wake up the sleeping beauty and try to get some food into him. Maybe he will feel more talkative after the sleep he had."

Marcus gave Peter a look full of appreciation and a gentle kiss on the jaw.

"I knew there was more to you than just dashing looks," he said with a smile and nudged Peter off of the table.

"You  _just_  figured that out? I'm hurt," Peter put a hand over his heart in mock hurt then headed out of the kitchen before Marcus could hit him with a kitchen towel he was brandishing threateningly.

A bit later, after a quick shower and having changed into more comfortable clothes, Peter headed back down the stairs. Marcus was obviously successful in waking up their guest, if the disgruntled grumbling was anything to go by.

"I'm not hungry," Tomas drawled his voice scratchy and accent more pronounced than usual.

"It's soup. You don't have to be hungry for that." Marcus argued and Peter entered the kitchen just in time to see Tomas rolling his eyes.

"Don't worry, Tomas. It's from a can. Marcus wouldn't try to poison you," Peter said and Tomas jumped, startled.

"Oh, hello Mr. Osborne," Tomas said and Peter grimaced.

"For the fifth time, please call me Peter?" It was the same each time they met. Tomas didn't have trouble calling Marcus by his name the moment the man offered, but God help it, when Peter did the same Tomas looked like he just asked him to call the Pope John.

"Sorry, Mr... Peter."

Marcus snickered and put a bowl of soup in front of Tomas, along with a glass of water.

"Mr. Peter... that makes me feel like you should be the one teaching not me, darling," Marcus said as Peter settled on his chair and started digging through different boxes of food. He could feel Tomas's eyes on him so he looked at the boy and felt a twinge of concern. The kid really didn't look good, even after few hours of sleep. He was half leaning on the table, testing the soup with his spoon but not really taking a sip. Peter gave him a pointed look.

"If you don't like the soup, there's plenty of Chinese to go around. Fried rice with chicken?" Peter offered one of the boxes to Tomas but if possible the kid turned a bit greener around the edge and shook his head.

"No, thanks. I... really don't have much of an appetite."

Peter and Marcus exchanged a glance and Tomas seemed to realize there was some secret communication between them, because he suddenly dug into his soup, trying to look for the lack of better word more lively.

For a moment there was just the sound of cutlery hitting the plates and several pointed looks from Marcus, as if he was asking Peter to start talking. Peter rolled his eyes and took a bite of a spring roll then turned to Tomas.

He knew better than to ask what kind of day he had, but there were many other topics he was curious about. He and Tomas had barely talked before, each time the conversation got somehow turned to Latin and the lesson Marcus was trying to teach him. But now there was some time and the tutoring session obviously wasn't on either of their minds. Peter wanted to ask about Tomas's parents, about his sister or about Mexico. Peter has never been to Mexico.

"What are your plans for the summer?" Peter asked instead and instantly saw the corner of Marcus's lip twitching in a smile, one eyebrow raised as if in a question  _'Really? That's your great interrogation tactic?'_

Luckily Tomas didn't seem to notice as he was focusing on idly playing with his food. The question though at least made him raise his head and something like hope appeared in his eyes.

"Olivia said I can find a summer job. That would be great. I mean... it would help. And I wouldn't have to be stuck in the apartment all summer doing nothing."

Peter frowned. Since when was a 15 year old kid so eager about the prospect of getting a job?

"Oh. Is there something you want to buy?" That was the most logical reason. "A computer or one of those gaming consoles everyone is raving about?"

But Tomas shook his head and looked at Peter as if he was the one being silly.

"I already have a computer for school work. It's old but as long as it works, I don't want to change it."

"So what do you want to save up for?"

"Rent?" Tomas said as if it was the most logical answer and Peter was being purposefully obtuse. "Food or school supplies. Take your pick." Tomas shrugged and Peter felt the food go sour in his mouth. Marcus looked at Tomas and then at Peter in such way that Peter could almost hear his thoughts:  _'See what I have to face several times a week? Can we adopt him now?'_

„Well, nothing wrong with working during the summer. I remember when I was twelve and wanted to get money to buy a new bike. I swear I moved a lawn every day for the whole two months. Ended up missing a whole lot of fun with friends."

"Did you get the bike at least?"

"Nah. I was hiding my saved up money in a box under my bed. Turned out my younger brother kept sneaking in and taking the change to buy popsicles and comic books," Peter laughed at it now, though when he figured out at the end of summer that the money didn't add up and it was his brother's fault, he was anything but happy.

"What did you do?" It was Marcus who asked, never hearing the story before. Peter shrugged.

"I chased Matty around the house with a baseball bat, until dad put a stop to that. We both got a hiding and I spent the last week of summer sulking and not speaking to my brother. Well, I tried, but we were sharing a room and he was eight... there was no stopping him from talking." Peter laughed and both Tomas and Marcus smiled.

"So you didn't get the bike?"

"Oh, I got it for Christmas. It was one of the coldest Chicago winters at that so I had to spend the next three months waiting to take it out for a proper test drive. But man, I did love the bike."

"What about your brother? Did you forgive him?" Tomas asked softly.

"Of course. He was my kid brother. I even let him ride the bike once or twice." Peter thought back to that first ride, remembering clearly that Matty's feet couldn't reach the ground but he refused any help getting on the bike. He managed to circle their parking lot before he lost his balance and made a spectacular fall. Still, the kid was stubborn and even with scraped knees hopped back on the bike. Peter felt a sudden wave of nostalgia and thought that maybe he should call his brother. They haven't talked for several months now, what with Matt moving out of the States and settling down in England.

Peter felt Marcus's leg nudging his own, pulling him from his thoughts. He blinked and gave Marcus a small smile thinking maybe they could actually take a few days off during the summer and fly to London. It was time Marcus got to know all of Peter's family.

"I don't think Olivia would be as forgiving if I tried to take her car," Tomas peeped up and Peter was happy to see he was smiling. The bowl of soup in front of him was almost empty as well.

"Well, I think you can do much more damage with a car than a bike," Marcus said with a smile, but Tomas shook his head.

"She wouldn't even let me sit behind the wheel," he grumbled. "I know I won't be able to get a driver's license anytime soon, but would be nice to at least know how to drive."

Peter and Marcus exchanged a look, knowing Tomas was right. If he was suspect to fits, for whatever reason, there was no way he would get a license.

"Hm, maybe if you'll find some spare time during your busy summer schedule," Marcus started with a grin and Tomas raised his head with a frown, but it quickly disappeared as Marcus continued: "I know of an old abandoned air field a bit of a way out of town. It's a pretty long and wide strip of empty road. No better place to try out some driving."

"You would let me drive your car?" Tomas asked in disbelief and Peter had to take a sip of water to hide his grin at seeing the pure joy on the kid's face.

" _A_  car... Peter's old truck. It's a bit sturdier than what we're driving now."

At this Peter almost choked on the water. He swallowed wrong and started coughing. Marcus gave him a few slaps on the back with a glint in his eyes.

"Careful, dear. My CPR skills are a bit rusty."

Peter rolled his eyes then cleared his throat.

"Sturdy isn't the word I would use for my truck, but it is definitely more fit to drive over some dusty road. If you manage to start the engine, that is."

Tomas's smile faltered a bit but Marcus waved it off.

"Don't worry, the old lady always starts for me. It's Peter who's having issues with her."

"I would take offense at both statements, but they happen to be true," Peter admitted, happy he was riding his new SUV.

Tomas beamed.

"I can't wait! Thanks, Marcus," Tomas said, then turned towards Peter. "I promise I won't crash it."

"If you do, I think explaining that to your sister would be a bigger issue," Peter pointed out and Tomas grimaced. He wasn't sure if Olivia would even allow it, but summer was still a few weeks away and well... what Olivia didn't know wouldn't hurt her. As long as Peter and Marcus didn't ask outright for her permission. Which reminded him of his sister and Tomas looked at the time in mild panic.

"Oh damn, I need to call Liv."

"Is she expecting you for dinner?"

"No... yeah. I'm not sure." Tomas started looking for his phone, realizing it wasn't in his pockets and slightly panicking. "Where's my phone?"

"In your backpack. You left it on your desk before," Marcus said calmly. Tomas looked up and relaxed a bit. Last thing he needed was to lose his phone. Olivia would surely kill him.

"Relax. She probably isn't home yet or she would've already called you. You can finish the soup, no?"

Tomas didn't look like he had any interest in the soup, but eased back onto the chair.

"Doesn't she know you're here for tutoring?" Peter asked, curious about the previous panic. Tomas looked away a bit sheepishly.

"She thinks I'm at a study group. I'm not sure she will even come home today, she has a night shift, but sometimes when she gets the time, she comes home for a quick dinner."

Peter frowned.

"So you'll be alone tonight?"

"I'm fifteen. I'm not scared of staying alone," Tomas answered a bit touchily and Peter could see the teenage pride manifesting.

"I wasn't insinuating anything of the kind. Just thought leaving a fifteen year old alone on a Friday night spelled trouble."

Tomas deflated a bit.

"I'm not a partying type. You don't have to worry about that."

Peter nodded and Marcus cleared his throat.

"Yeah, but isn't it quite boring?" Marcus asked and winked at Peter. "Why don't you stay here? We have already planned a movie night. There will be pop corn and cheetos."

"And lots of soda," Peter added with a grin. "That's not a bad idea. You can actually help us decide which movie to watch. I want to introduce Marcus to the Fast and Furious franchise, while he's stubbornly pushing the Police Academy."

Tomas blinked, obviously taken aback with the offer.

"What... like... a sleepover?"

"I wouldn't know, I never had a sleepover in my life," Marcus commented. "But I do need some support with the movie choice," he winked at Tomas this time. Tomas still looked surprised.

"Wouldn't I bother you? Didn't you have other plans?"

"I wouldn't have offered, Tomas. There's a perfectly good guest room you can sleep in and Marcus or I can drop you off at home in the morning."

"But... why?"

"Why not?" Peter shrugged.

"It sure beats staying home alone on a Friday night. Especially after the day you had," Marcus added gently and Tomas frowned in thought. He looked like he just remembered something that put a damper on his mood.

"But you don't have to," Peter quickly interjected. "If you'd rather go home and rest-"

"No, it's not that," Tomas jumped in, shaking his head. He would definitely prefer staying there and not having to spend the rest of the night alone with his thoughts. The problem was "I just... sometimes I have bad nightmares. I... I don't want to wake you up or something."

"Hey, no worries about that. We both have our share of nightmares, right love?" Marcus turned to Peter who reached out across the table and squeezed his hand.

"Yeah. We are pretty used to nightmares. All the more reason you should stay here. I can't imagine it's pleasant to wake up from a nightmare in an empty apartment."

Tomas couldn't argue with that. Still, there was one thing he needed to do before he could agree.

"Uh... I need to call my sister."

"And tell her where you are. Yes?" Peter gave him an imploring look until Tomas grudgingly muttered a "Yes, sir."

"Okay, go call her."

Tomas nodded and left the kitchen. Marcus looked at Peter with a raised eyebrow.

„That wasn't exactly the plan," he said with a small smile. Peter just shrugged.

"What can I say, I care. You're bad influence."

"And I love you so much more for that," Marcus said and leaned over to give Peter a kiss.

"Good to know," Peter said with a smirk when they separated. "I might start changing our plans more often."

They could hear Tomas's voice from the living room, first muffled then more clear as he was heading back to the kitchen.

"Everything's fine, Liv. I just stayed over for dinner at Marcus's place. Yes, I ate!" The annoyance in his voice was clear and Peter raised an eyebrow. He wouldn't exactly call the soup a full-fledged dinner, but maybe they could get some sandwiches into the kid a bit later. Or pop corn. Food was food after all.

Just then Tomas appeared in the kitchen, looking a bit uneasy.

"That's... they're really okay with it, Liv. No, I don't want to bother-" Tomas suddenly blushed and without another word walked towards Peter and held the phone out to him, a pleading look on his face.

"My sister wants to talk to you," he said with a sigh and Peter wondered why he was looking like he was in front of a shooting squad.

"Me? Not Marcus?" he asked and Tomas bit his lip nervously. Marcus raised an eyebrow and Peter took the phone, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Hi, I'm Peter. Tomas said you want to talk to me?"

"Oh yeah, hi. I'm Olivia, his older sister." She sounded a bit breathless and he could tell she was walking out of a building as he heard the sound of traffic in the background.

"I don't want to bother you, just wanted to make sure it was okay that Tomas spent the night at your place?"

"Of course, we wouldn't have offered otherwise."

"Thank you," she said, sounding relieved. "You don't even know how happy I am that Tomas finally found a friend. Is your son also in the Latin study group?"

Peter blinked.

"My  _son?_ " he asked and Tomas blanched, mouthing a silent 'please?' while Marcus looked mildly amused. Peter sighed and shook his head at Tomas.

"I'm sorry, there was some mistake. Marcus isn't my son. He's my partner."

There was a momentary silence on the other end and Peter waited, watching as Tomas sat down on the chair with a groan.

"I'm sorry... who exactly are you and who is Marcus?" Olivia sounded genuinely confused and a more than a bit concerned.

"My name's Peter Osborne. My partner Marcus is Tomas's Latin teacher." Peter calmly explained while Marcus was looking more and more amused and Tomas hid his face in his arms.

"Oh, okay." Another silence as Olivia was obviously thinking what to do next. "Can you give me your address please? I think I need to speak with Tomas about his perchance of omitting some details."

"Of course." Peter gave her the address and she hung up with a promise of arriving soon. Peter put the phone on the table in front of Tomas, who raised his head and looked at Peter with half disappointment, half shame.

"She's on her way... and she didn't sound all that pleased."

Tomas groaned, but didn't say a word. It was Marcus who broke the silence.

"Really? You told her I'm a student?" He asked and looked more amused than Peter thought necessary. He frowned at him, clearly broadcasting that he should maybe look a bit more reproachful. Marcus totally ignored the look.

"I didn't. I just told her I had a new friend. Not my fault she didn't ask about your age," Tomas grumbled, realizing he was in trouble.

"Any particular reason why you didn't just tell her? Especially after I told you to give her my number?" Marcus asked and while he still looked relaxed, Peter could see the slight change in his posture, indicating the question was much more important to him than he let on. Tomas perhaps sensed it too, because he fidgeted on his seat and looked away.

"She can be a bit... overprotective. I wasn't sure she would like me hanging out with an old guy..." Tomas paused, his eyes going wide when he realized what he said, but it was too late.

"Old? You're calling me  _old?"_  Marcus looked hurt and Peter chuckled. Tomas looked at both of them with confusion.

"I didn't mean it like that," he started apologizing but Peter waved him off.

"Just ignore the old man. Was there some other reason as well? I doubt your sister would protest against extra tutoring."

Tomas gave a half shrug, slumping more into his chair and playing with the spoon in the empty bowl in front of him.

"She was always on my back for not having friends."

"So you figured I can act as your 15 year old buddy?" Marcus offered when Tomas didn't seem any more forthcoming.

"Well, it's not like you don't act like a fifteen year old sometimes," Peter commented with a smile, which earned him a petulant look and a swift kick on the shin under the table.

"You're just proving a point, dear," he said, kicking back, while Tomas looked on, confused.

Marcus just smirked and leaned back in the chair comfortably, giving Tomas a questioning look.

„Any reason you gave the phone to Peter instead of me? Maybe I would've played along."

At that Tomas blushed.

"I was a bit startled. She wanted to talk to your parents, so..." Tomas shrugged and Peter laughed.

"Lovely. Well, I suppose I might take it as a compliment. I at least look younger than Peter." Another smirk and this time Peter just rolled his eyes.

"Glad at least someone's having fun," Tomas muttered, feeling rather unhappy about the prospect of an encounter with an angry Olivia. Marcus leaned over and affectionately ruffled his hair.

"Relax, kid. We won't let her bite your head off. Who knows, she might find us charming. I know I am."

"Terribly so," Peter concurred with a fake British accent and Tomas couldn't help but smile. Watching those two interacting was putting him at ease... their colors evened each other out and mixed into a calming white with a hint of green, like fresh grass.

"Okay, why don't you two go and clean up that mess in the living room? Maybe pretend to work on some studying when Tomas's sister arrives. I'll clean up the kitchen and maybe make some tea... or coffee. Which one does she prefer?" Peter asked, already thinking of how to sooth the situation and Tomas gave him a grateful smile.

"If she's having a night shift, coffee. With milk and lots of sugar."

"Milk and sugar have no place in coffee," Marcus commented but Peter ignored him in lieu of clearing the table.

Not even twenty minutes later there was a knock on the door. Tomas was in the living room with Marcus, his history homework splayed on the table. Marcus was lounging comfortably on the chair, long legs up on the table to Peter's dismay.

All three exchanged a look, Tomas quickly turning his head back into the book, trying to look busy. Marcus chuckled but didn't make a move to get up. Peter sighed. It seemed he was the one chosen to brave the storm.

Peter opened the door just as Olivia was about to knock again, her hand pausing mid air.

"Hello," she said a bit taken aback, looking at Peter with regarding, tired eyes. "I'm Olivia. Is Tomas here?"

"Peter," he offered her his hand and she returned a strong grip. "Yes, he's waiting for you. Please, come on in."

Olivia nodded silently and without hesitation walked past Peter. She didn't even pause at the door. She gave Marcus a short nod and zeroed in right onto Tomas, who was sitting on the couch, trying to look much more relaxed than he was.

"Tomas?" she stopped in front of her brother, arms on her hips and a fierce look on her face. Tomas swallowed and smiled.

"Hey Liv. Uh... this is Marcus... my teacher," Tomas added as an afterthought.

Olivia looked over at Marcus who stood up and also offered a hand and smile.

"Marcus Keane. Pleasure to meet you."

Some of the fire left her eyes as she took in his friendly composure. She shook hands with him as well.

"I'm sorry for barging in, but I need to talk to my brother. We have some... family business to clear up."

"Of course. Would you like some coffee? We just made a fresh batch."

"That would be lovely, thank you."

Marcus gave Tomas a wink as he passed Olivia and followed Peter to the kitchen.

For a moment there was only silence and Tomas prepared himself for the outlash. Olivia crossed her arms and made a very good imitation of Abuelita.

"Are you insane?" she shouted in Spanish, obviously trying to keep the conversation private but forgetting to keep her voice down as well. Tomas opened his mouth, ready to tell her that Marcus was quite skilled in Spanish as well, but he didn't get a chance. Olivia was in his face, arms flailing.

"Going home with strangers... two adult men... without telling me a word? Do you even realize how dangerous that is?"

Tomas frowned, not liking what she was insinuating and taking personal offense at her tone.

"They are not strangers," he said, trying to keep his voice down. "Marcus is my  _teacher_  and my friend. Peter is his partner. What's so bad about it?"

Olivia shook her head.

"You don't get it, Tomas. This is Chicago! You... you're still just a kid and I'm the one responsible for you. They could've drugged you or or... whatever!"

"They're not like that!" Tomas protested, now angry on their behalf as well as his own. "Not everyone in this city is crazy, Liv. And I would've thought you knew me a bit better than that."

Olivia seemed to lose some of her steam. She might have not believed his dreams were anything more than dreams, but she knew her brother. Ever since he started talking, Tomas had a knack of knowing people, of recognizing the dangerous and strange ones. She remembered clearly that he never liked their neighbor and kept far away from him, even as a four year old kid. Several months later, the neighbor was sent to jail for attacking and beating his girlfriend. It was a friendly man and no one thought a bad thing of him, but Tomas knew there was something dark hidden inside him. Tomas always knew and Olivia shouldn't have forgotten that.

She ran a weary hand over her face and Tomas took a step closer, recognizing her reaction for what it was. Worry and tiredness.

"They're good guys, Liv. I swear."

"Are you sure?"

Tomas nodded and put a hand on her shoulder.

"I feel safe here. That's... that's all."

Marcus and Peter chose that moment to walk in, one holding a plate with coffee the other a plate of sandwiches.

"I know priests don't have the best rep, but I assure you Tomas is as safe as it comes in this house," Marcus spoke in Spanish and Olivia blushed, embarrassed.

"Oh god, I didn't mean-" she raised her hands in supplication then her eyes went even wider. "Wait. You're a  _priest_?"

"I was one. Then I met Peter and well... the church isn't exactly a fan of priests finding love as you can imagine."

"Yes, I imagine that might be a problem," Olivia said with a small chuckle and the mood in the room relaxed a bit. "I'm sorry for... all of this." She sighed and accepted the cup of coffee Peter was offering with a grateful smile.

"For some reason Tomas didn't tell me about you, so I was taken aback."

"You're his sister and you're protective. Nothing wrong with that, love," Marcus said with a smile and both he and Peter sat down on the couch, pointing for Olivia to do the same. She looked at her watch and reluctantly sat down.

"I really don't have much time... I need to be at work in a moment." She turned to Tomas. "If we leave now I can drive you home and get to work with a few minutes to spare."

Tomas frowned and was about to protest but Peter spoke first.

"Our offer still stands, Olivia. Tomas can stay for the night. We already had planned a movie night."

"Yes, I need some support in picking a movie," Marcus peeped in.

Olivia looked torn and Tomas reached for her hand and gave her one of his best pleading looks.

"Por favor? It's Friday anyway, not like I need to go to school in the morning."

"We can drive him home after breakfast, it's no trouble," Marcus added.

Olivia sighed and it was obvious she was going to relent.

"Okay, if it's really no trouble for you," she turned to Marcus and Peter, accepting the quick hug from her brother with a roll of her eyes.

"Of course not. We'll just make a bigger batch of popcorn." Marcus grinned.

"As long as you're feeling better?" Olivia turned to Tomas and gave him an appraising look, her hand pushing some stray hair off his forehead, fingers gently checking for fever. She frowned at his paleness and sunken cheeks. „Did you do well on the test?"

At that Tomas grimaced and pulled back, embarrassed by her fussing in front of Marcus and Peter as well as unhappy with his academic proves that day.

„It went... okay," he said and knew he would have to make it up later, but as long as he didn't mess up anymore it shouldn't have bearing on his grades. Yet.

Olivia's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Okay? Did something happen I should know of?" Tomas shook his head trying for an innocent smile and when Olivia looked at Marcus with a raised eyebrow, Tomas shook his head again with a pleading look. Peter would've started laughing, but he didn't think this was a laughing matter. He was also curious if Marcus would say anything or not. Marcus for his part felt like being put in the middle of a war he had no intention of partaking. Yet he still did, for the sake of the kid. At the moment he felt gaining Tomas's trust was more important than telling Olivia the truth.

"Nothing serious. Tomas didn't feel well at the end of the school day so I sent him to the nurse. Stomach bug she said. Rest, fluids and some easy food."

"We already managed to get some soup into him," Peter added.

"Tomas!" This time Olivia twirled around, slapping Tomas on the arm. "What did I tell you about lying?!"

"I didn't lie!" Tomas protested, although only half-heartedly and was hoping Olivia wouldn't turn and look at Marcus, who inclined his head in that universal gesture of 'Really?'

"I asked if you were fine!"

"And I am! It was just a bug, that's all. I'm feeling much better now. I swear!" Tomas raised both hands and at least this time he said the truth. He was feeling better after all. The only reason his stomach was churning now was because Olivia was still glaring daggers at him and there was a promise of a long conversation at home come morning. Plus there was the letter from the nurse that was burning a hole in his backpack, but Tomas thought he would much rather face that issue while in the privacy of his home, rather than let Olivia make a scene in front of Marcus again. Some of that must've telegraphed on his face, because Olivia sighed and relented.

"What am I gonna do with you?" It was a philosophical question, but Peter still butted in.

"Leave him here. It's better than Tomas being alone tonight and you worrying if he's okay while you should be focusing on the job. I promise, no junk food would cross this table," Peter said with a smirk as two voices moaned in unison.

Olivia smiled. She was starting to like Peter. He sounded like the adult and responsible of the pair.

"Okay. Not like I have much of a choice," she said with a sigh and turned back to Tomas, enveloping him in a hug.

"You call if you need anything, understood?" she whispered in his ear and Tomas nodded.

"Don't worry so much. Be careful, don't fall asleep on the job."

"Oh, no trouble with that. This is my fourth coffee today," she grimaced and stood, ready to leave.

"It was nice to meet you, Marcus, Peter. I really appreciate you tutoring my brother and I hope we can talk about it a bit more once my schedule won't be this crazy."

"Of course. It's my pleasure too, Tomas is a very bright kid," Marcus said and reached for a piece of paper and a pen, quickly scribbling down his phone number. "In case you need anything and don't want to wait for Tomas to divulge the message," Marcus added with a small grin and Tomas blushed. Olivia took the number and put it in her purse. "Thank you."

"I'll see you out," Peter said and walked next to Olivia as they headed towards the door. Once there though she paused and it was obvious she had something on her mind.

"Don't worry, he will be fine." Peter said gently and Olivia looked up at him.

"I know. It's just... I don't know what Tomas told you, but you should be aware he suffers from nightmares. Lately they are getting worse and once or twice I caught him sleepwalking..."

Peter nodded.

"All the more reason not to leave him alone tonight. He had a hard day at school."

Olivia raised an eyebrow, but Peter didn't elaborate on that. It was up to Tomas to tell the truth after all.

"Tomas told us, don't worry. It's not a problem."

"Oh, okay. Thank you." Olivia was obviously relieved that Tomas said at least as much. And maybe a bit surprised as well.

"He must really like you to admit that," she said, thinking out loud. Peter laughed and Olivia felt better just from the sound of his voice.

"I think it's all Marcus. He's the charming one in this family. He's also often acting like a teenager, so they have a lot in common."

Olivia smiled, then with a nod left the house. She turned on the front step, her face hard again.

"If anything happens to him..." she warned but Peter shook his head, equally serious.

"He's safe here. I promise. And we will call if needed."

* * *

An hour later all the homework was gone from the table, replaced by sandwiches, a bowl of popcorn, apple slices and some drinks. Peter and Marcus were lounging together on the couch, while Tomas was curled up in the armchair, head lulling to the side.

The television was playing the Police Academy 1 to Marcus's delight. Peter was a fan of good action movies and fast car chases, but Marcus wanted to enjoy some good comedy. Luckily when it was time to pick a movie Tomas sided with Marcus, noting that he hasn't seen the Police academy before. Peter gave up his quest and made himself comfortable on one end of the couch quickly finding his shoulder used as a pillow for Marcus when his lanky form somehow managed to occupy the whole length of the couch.

On the screen, Mahoney was just giving Hightower a driving lesson by stealing a car and having a police chase around the city.

"I really hope your driving lesson won't end that way," Peter commented in jest. "I'm still partially attached to that truck."

"Why, you're just giving me ideas, love," Marcus quipped. "What do you say we go for a jolly night ride around the city Tomas?"

But Tomas didn't say anything and both men exchanged a look. Peter leaned over a bit then chuckled.

"He's out like a light," he commented in low voice, leaning back. "Should we wake him and send him to his room?"

"Now you're just trying to make me feel old, right?" Marcus rolled his eyes. "Let the kid be, he needs his beauty sleep. Pass the popcorn?"

Peter didn't disagree, though when the second movie finished and he caught himself yawning, he decided it was time they all went to bed. Marcus pouted at the idea of going to bed so early, it wasn't even midnight yet and Marcus was usually a night owl, but Peter quickly chased the pout away with a kiss. Then he gave a pointed look towards the lump in the armchair.

"He needs to get into a real bed. Not even a 15 year old will get out of that chair after a whole night without feeling like a tank run him over."

"True, yet I don't feel like waking him up."

"Though luck, babe. Go on. Sooner he's in bed, sooner we can get there too." Peter gave another quick peck to Marcus nose.

"You're terrible," Marcus grumbled, extricating himself from the couch with an exaggerated moan, only to be pushed the rest of the way by Peter.

"I just thought you needed some help  _old man_."

Marcus grabbed a lonely corn from the bottom of the bowl and threw it at Peter.

"Oh, you're so cleaning that up later," Peter commented with a sly grin. Marcus mouthed 'make me' then turned towards Tomas. The kid looked so peaceful in the flickering light of the TV Marcus felt a twitch of regret about having to wake him up. If he was any younger and smaller, Marcus would've just carried him up the stairs, but even though Tomas wasn't by any means bulky, he was too big to be carried around. With a sigh and hoping his first instinct wasn't to lash out, Marcus put a hand on Tomas's shoulder and gave it a slight shake.

"Tomas?" he called his name and saw a twitch of an eyebrow, but the kid didn't wake up, only seemed to burrow deeper into the cushions of the chair.

"Come on, movie's over and Peter is mutinying about part three. Time for bed." Tomas groaned and popped open an eye, glaring at Marcus with the mighty glare of teenagers. Marcus wasn't impressed.

"Up and at them... I'm not lugging you up the stairs."

"Chair's comfy," Tomas muttered, hoping he would be allowed to stay and fall back to sleep. It was the first uninterrupted sleep he had for the last few weeks and he really wished he could just go back to it.

"If you find this comfy, you will think the bed is heavenly. Come on. I don't want to face an angry Olivia if we deliver her little brother as a pretzel."

Tomas muttered something under his nose that sounded too much like chicken. Marcus sighed, taking offense. Peter chuckled.

"Aren't you happy we didn't get to see the terrible two's?"

"Ecstatic," Marcus commented, then without warning turned on the lamp, lighting up the room. Tomas groaned, putting an arm over his eyes and hiding his glare.

"I'm up, I'm up," he grumbled and got out of the chair, stretching out the kinks.

"Isn't torture against Geneva conventions?" Tomas blinked owlishly as the two men laughed at his plight.

"Don't talk about torture until you tasted Marcus's three am attempt at scrambled eggs," Peter noted, receiving a glare of his own.

"Okay, upstairs, both of you. The last one upstairs is cleaning up the mess in the living room-" Peter didn't even finish the sentence, both Tomas and Marcus were rushing for the stairs. "Figures," Peter muttered with a grin then slowly followed them. After all, he didn't say  _when_  the cleaning up should happen.


	7. Chapter 7

Marcus was right. The bed in the guest room was way more comfortable than the chair in the living room. Tomas burrowed his head into the pillow with something that sounded almost like a purr. He enjoyed the fresh smell of the linens; even more the soft fabric of the shirt and sweatpants he was offered as a sleep wear. He knew they belonged to Marcus, even though they were washed. There was still a touch of his color lingering behind, a golden shine that enveloped Tomas in warmth and calm. He soaked up the feeling, knowing he desperately needed a break from all the nightmares and sickness that was closing in on him lately. If only he could get a bit of reprieve, he could get some of his energy back and maybe, just maybe, build up his walls so they were strong enough to keep the images out.

Tomas could hear movement from the hall, he could even swear that someone opened the door and checked up on him maybe fifteen minutes after he lay down in bed, but he was already in that zone where things didn't seem real, where time stopped having meaning and thoughts were floating freely around.

For once there was no scratching at the back of his mind, no whispers from the shadows all around. There was only peace and quiet and Tomas thought he could stay in that place of nothingness forever. But things were never so easy. After what seemed like an eternity but could've been just a blink of an eye, Tomas found himself running down an unfamiliar street.

It was dark, in the middle of the night. The lights were out in all the windows, the only thing showing him the road was the moonlight, shining starkly at the tarmac. He could hear barking of wild dogs, could hear the screams of a child in the distance. Most of all, Tomas heard his own ragged breaths, felt the burning in his calves and lungs as he was being chased by something - towards something.

He ran through an alley then a street, almost feeling the dogs yapping at his heels, but when he turned, he couldn't see them. Only the barking and the grotesque screams, which were coming closer. Or... he was getting closer to them.

It felt like an eternity, as if there was no end to those streets but Tomas couldn't stop his feet even if he wanted to. Something pulled him, navigated him through the labyrinth of houses, until he reached a door. He barged in without knocking, not even surprised that the door wasn't locked. Tomas spotted a haggard looking woman sitting on a rocking chair, bottle feeding an infant. He wanted to pause, to apologize for his presence, but he couldn't even find the energy to spare her more than a glance. He was being pulled towards a room with a broken down door. Only once inside the room did Tomas come to a halt, the need to run gone, as if someone cut his strings.

He stood in the room, eyes wide and breathing all but stopped. In front of him was a bed with a boy not much younger than him. He lay there, tied up like a rabid animal, arms and legs bleeding from rope burns as he was obviously trying to escape his bonds. At this moment the boy was laying still, breathing rapidly, mouth full of sores and rotting teeth slightly open to let in air, the tongue flickering for moisture. His eyes were feverish and wild and Tomas could see the shadow sitting on the boy's chest, heavy and dark as the night. The black tendrils were enveloping the boy in a cocoon, closing around his neck, entering his ears and mouth, whispering and screaming at the same time. Some tendrils were wrapped around the boy's wrists and ankles and Tomas could see that the shadow had the boy propped as a puppet. Every movement he made was just the shadow's play, to what means, Tomas didn't know. But he was sure it had everything to do with the man kneeling next to the boy.

Such a familiar face, yet so different from what Tomas knew. It was still shining with that inner strength, but there was too much anguish and fear in it. He didn't want to think about Marcus experiencing such feelings, about being in such place.

"No, this isn't true," Tomas said, taking a step back, hitting the wall. He could feel the texture of the wall under his fingers, could smell the rot, blood and piss in the air and it made him want to sick up, but he couldn't. The scene in front of him was too surreal and he still thought this was a dream he could wake up from.

Marcus, not much younger than he was now, looked tired and beaten, sweat running down his face as he was praying fervently. The words were Latin, some familiar, some not. Marcus was kneeling next to the bed as the boy tossed and turned feverishly.

Tomas was startled when the boy spoke in Spanish, asking for his mother.

"Your mother's just in the next room. Gabriel, listen to me," Marcus pleaded and Tomas could see the fear and worry he had for that boy on his face, hear it in his voice clear as day. But most of all, he saw the ripples of red mixing with the usual warm light surrounding Marcus. He was suffering almost as much as Gabriel and Tomas's heart broke for both of them.

"It hurts-" Gabriel moaned and Tomas cringed in sympathy.

"I'm going to save you, I promise I am. But you have to keep fighting." Marcus soaked a rag in a bowl of water and he gently washed Gabriel's face. But there must've been something in the water, because the boy hissed and buckled under the touch as if it was acid touching his skin. Tomas could see the dark shadow rippling in anger, tightening its hold, digging deeper under the skin...

"It hurts!" Gabriel screamed but Marcus didn't relent, even though there were tears in his eyes.

"There once was a cat..." he spoke in choked voice, and Tomas knew that rhyme, heard it from his Abuelita before. "With feet made of cloth."

"And upside-down eyes," Tomas spoke along with Marcus, in silent horror.

"Would you like me to tell you the story again?" Marcus asked with hope, but the boy didn't react. "Gabriel, Gabriel, come back to me!" he pleaded as Gabriel started tossing around on the bed. The metal frame rattled with the force as he buckled, trying to get free of his bonds. Marcus put a hand on his chest, trying to hold him down, and Tomas could see some of that shining energy pour from his fingers into the boy's chest, but it was as if there was an invisible shield. It couldn't penetrate the dark shadow, it only made it angry and Tomas stepped forward to try and warn Marcus, but he couldn't move. The horror of it all froze his legs in place.

"Come back. You have to fight!" Marcus pleaded and threatened, still full of hope, even as Gabriel gave a horrifying screech.

"God has not abandoned you!" Marcus said but Tomas knew it was not true. He could see the shining light pull back from Marcus's hands, as if it was a conscious entity, while the darkness surged forward, the huge shadow moving from Gabriel's side toward his face, covering his nostrils and mouth like a huge hand. Gabriel's eyes widened and Tomas could see the exact moment when the boy was gone... the last of his pale blue color enveloped in black as the shadow entered through the boy's mouth and overcome his whole body.

"Marcus!" Tomas called out in warning at the same time as Gabriel did and Marcus's name was turned into an inhuman growl.

It took but a moment for Marcus to realize the truth that he had failed, as Gabriel's eyes changed and a third pupil appeared where it had no place to be. Still, he grabbed his bible and the cross, not ready to give up. Tomas would have admired the resolve, if he didn't know it was too late. Gabriel was gone and the thing lying on the bed was just putting on a show, the air around it rippling in twisted satisfaction even as Marcus spat out words of prayer.

"I don't want to be here," Tomas said, the scene in front of him too horrible to watch. "Please, let me go. Let me wake up," he said and closed his eyes, even though he couldn't get the images out of his head, couldn't unhear Marcus's desperation and the demonic growls and screeches. And that was the moment when Tomas realized what the shadow was, what all the shadows he kept seeing on peoples shoulders when walking the street were and it made him sick to his stomach, the thought that this could be more than just a dream.

Despite his own prayers to get away from the room, from that scene, Tomas was glued to the place, as real as anything he ever felt before. There was no escape, nowhere to run and Tomas found himself repeating the words of prayer falling out of Marcus's mouth. But nothing helped as Gabriel - the demon - spat out bloody teeth. Like hypnotized, Tomas watched as a tooth landed mere inches from his bare feet. He leaned down and picked it up, feeling the texture, the sharp edges biting into the skin of his fingers until he let it fall back to the floor, the sound of it hitting the wood lost in the screaming and roaring of wind inside the room. And where did the wind come from? Tomas blinked, lost and dazed, all comprehensive thought leaving his mind.

"We command you!" Marcus shouted, spraying holy water on the figure on the bed. There was an angry growl and Tomas could swear he heard the sound of the sizzling skin as the water hit it. He could definitely smell burnt meat and only the horror of it all kept him from doubling over and throwing up. Tomas watched with wide eyes as Gabriel lunged up and his teeth snapped close on Marcus's right shoulder.

"No!" Tomas shouted, one hand reaching out in an attempt to help, but the distance between him and Marcus remained the same. He could do absolutely nothing, only watch as his mentor suffered. Tomas couldn't handle that. He put his fists against his eyes, pressing so hard it felt as if his own brain would explode. He didn't let go until the sounds around him changed.

He could hear water dripping, overflowing in the sink, furniture rattling, paper crinkling as the whole room came to life. The figure on the bed - and Tomas refused to call it a boy anymore, because there wasn't one - gave an inhuman growl and spoke with a voice of a man. Taunting Marcus, enjoying his suffering even as Marcus paid back in same, calling on God's force.

 _"I command you unclean spirit, along with all your minions now attacking this servant of God, by the mysteries of incarnation, by the passion the resurrection and the ascension of our lord Jesus Christ,"_  Marcus grabbed his collar and pulled it off, as if it was choking him, but Tomas could see it wasn't the collar, it was the shadow tendril reaching out, curling around Marcus's throat, tightening its grip. It couldn't do much more, because Marcus's light was too strong, but still it was trying, lashing out, because Marcus was hurting it.

 _"-by the coming of our Lord for judgment, that you tell me by some sign your name, and the day and hour of your departure!"_  Marcus shouted and the demon spat out a name, its own name, as if it was a curse.

_"Baptist!"_

_"The hour of your departure! Baptist!"_  Marcus called out and there was a flash of light, as if God himself was trying for a last Hail Mary. The demon just laughed, the face full of sores and blood screwing up in a grimace.

 _"Not... long... now."_  It said in raspy breaths. Marcus himself couldn't seem to catch his breath. He fell to his knees by the bed, praying in choked voice, with tears running down his face.

_"And Jesus said... come to me, all you who are weary and burdened-"_

The figure coughed, but Marcus kept going.

_"-and I will give you rest. Gabriel!"_

There was a deep, croaking laugh, the metal frame of the bed rattled and the boy's arms moved with strength that wasn't human, snapping the ties binding him in two like nothing. Tomas could see the demon was in full control as the body rose into standing position, a puppet led by its master. Marcus could only stare in horror as the figure slapped him in the face, once, twice. The second slap sent him reeling back into the wall.

 _"Look upon me, Marcus!"_  the demon called and Marcus looked, because there was no other choice, and Tomas looked with him.

There was the sound of bones cracking and the boy doubled over in pain, giving a cry that could've belonged to a human, a child.

Marcus started shaking his head, eyes wide as he knew what was going to happen. Tomas could only watch as if in slow motion. The boy's head started turning, skin taunt to the limit, a grimace of pain and horror forever embedded on the face as the neck finally reached its final point. There was a snap that was soft, but at the same time sounded loud as a shot from a gun. The dark shadow surged out of the now useless body and the boy fell down, limp and lifeless, just an empty shell.

Tomas heard Marcus's scream, full of pain and despair and knew it was the sound of the man's heart breaking, the sound of someone losing faith.

 _"God please no,"_  Tomas could hear as the world turned dark and he bolted upright in the bed, the words sounding from his own mouth as a mantra.

* * *

„Please no," Tomas whispered, sitting on the bed, arms curled around his midriff just like Gabriel's before he died. The thought alone sent Tomas toppling out of the bed, rushing forward, blindly searching for the door to the hall. He knocked his leg into a chair in the foreign room but barely noticed. His mind was rushing, his stomach feeling as if it would rip in half with pain and sickness. Tomas stumbled out into the hall and made it to the bathroom just in time, before falling on his knees and letting out the soup Marcus managed to get into him.

He was heaving quietly, aware through all that Marcus and Peter were in a room down the hall. He didn't want to wake them, just like he didn't want to wake Olivia when he was home. Spitting out the last of bile into the toilet, Tomas leaned back against the wall, spent.

It wasn't real, none of that was real, he thought to himself, tried to convince himself. It couldn't have been. Just a nightmare, too vivid imagination and the fact he spent the night away from home. There was no such thing as demons killing small children. There couldn't be. The implication of it was too grave for Tomas to even consider. He felt his stomach rebelling again, but he forced himself to calm his breathing.

'Just a dream' he repeated, clutching at the hem of the shirt that was now soaked through with sweat. Tomas grimaced. He would've liked to change, but he didn't have other clothes and he was disgusted by the thought he sweat through those fresh linens in the guest room. If he was home he would just change them and hide the dirty ones until Olivia wasn't home and he could wash them, but he didn't have that option here. With a sigh, Tomas shrugged off the thought. The guys will have to accept it or decide not to invite him anymore. There was nothing to be done about it.

He could at least freshen up a bit before going to bed. Tomas pulled himself up clutching at the sink, his legs still too shaky to hold him up proper.

'I need to stop this' he thought. There was no way he could keep going on if every nightmare sent him puking. He was losing weight and people were starting to notice.

Tomas turned on the tap and splashed some cold water on his face, then used a bit of the mouthwash to clean his mouth. Feeling at least marginally more like a human, his heart less inclined to jump out of his chest, Tomas quietly exited the bathroom and turned off the light. He walked down the hall on the tip of his feet, thankful there were no creaking floorboards, when he heard voices from the bedroom. Tomas froze in front of the door.

He could hear a hushing tone and someone groaning. He knew he should just continue to his room, lest he be caught eavesdropping, but the words glued his feet to the floor, almost like in the dream.

"It was just a nightmare, it's over. You're okay. I'm here." That was Peter, talking to Marcus in a tone Tomas used to hear from his Abuelita when he was hurt or scared. The thought brought a pang of longing and deep loss. Tomas grit his teeth, but didn't move.

"I wish it was just a nightmare," Marcus groaned and Tomas could hear his weariness, his distress clear even through the door separating them. Tomas's breath halted. What was Marcus saying?

"Him again?" Peter asked and there was a sound of rustling clothes and the bed creaking as its occupants moved around.

Tomas couldn't hear what Marcus muttered and he was hard pressed to step closer to the door while at the same time the horror of what he could hear kept him rooted to the spot.

"Was it the same?"

"It's always the same. I can still hear the... crack. See his eyes-" Marcus's voice was choked, as if he was holding back crying. Tomas closed his fist and squeezed so hard he could feel the nails digging into skin. This could still mean something else. They could've been talking about anything really, Tomas tried to convince himself when he heard steps on the floor.

"Marcus?"

"Just need something to drink. Be right back." The voice was too close and Tomas realized how it would look if he was caught standing in front of the door. He also knew that he wouldn't make it to his room in time and he panicked, heading towards the stairs. He made it down halfway before he heard Marcus call his name and he stopped.

"Yeah?"

"You okay?" Marcus asked from the top of the stairs, confusion clear in his voice.

"Yeah, just got... thirsty. Sorry if I woke you up..." Tomas quickly fibbed, feeling some relief when Marcus shook his head.

"No, I was up. Did... did we wake you?" It was almost funny how uncertain Marcus sounded as he followed Tomas down the stairs into the kitchen.

Tomas shrugged.

"I think I went to sleep a bit too early," he said as an explanation and even though he could barely see in the dark, he was sure Marcus rolled his eyes.

"It is only two in the morning, Tomas. Hardly enough time to catch up on the rest you need," Marcus said, his voice a bit more steady as he pushed back the nightmare. Focusing on Tomas obviously helped calm him down and Tomas was happy to be of help, albeit a bit leery of being the center of attention.

They reached the kitchen and before Tomas could stumble over another chair or hit the counter, Marcus warned him and turned on the light.

They both grimaced and closed their eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the change. Tomas was first to blink his eyes open and noted Marcus leaning against the counter, rubbing at his own eyes. They looked red and Marcus's face bore the sign of a restless night, just as Tomas thought his own must've done. Tomas was still reeling from what he heard upstairs, trying to make some sense of it. He wasn't really thirsty, his stomach rebelling at the thought of swallowing anything, but he needed a distraction. And maybe some sugar would chase away the taste of vomit and stop his hands from shaking. Worried that Marcus might notice, Tomas turned to the fridge.

"Can I grab some soda?" Tomas asked, still not comfortable with the idea of just taking something without asking first. Marcus put his arms down and looked at him with a small smile.

"Sure. As long as its alcohol free, grab whatever you like."

Tomas reached in and took a can of sprite, then gave Marcus a sheepish grin.

"Oh, so I can get some coffee too?"

Marcus rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, in the middle of the night that will be a fat no. But if you pass me a bottle of water, I will be eternally grateful."

Tomas took a cool bottle out of the fridge then turned to Marcus, handing it to him. Only then did he note the fact that Marcus was in his night attire, which meant shorts and a wife beater. Tomas couldn't help it, he stared. It was the first time he saw Marcus in anything without sleeves... and it was the first time he saw the tattoo on his left shoulder of what looked like scars. Tomas frowned, his eyes stuck on the criss-cross pattern. Marcus noted the look.

"Old scars..." he spoke as he opened the bottle of water and took a swig. "From times long past."

Tomas shook his head and looked away.

"I didn't mean to pry." He blushed and opened his own drink. He took a small sip, praying it would settle his stomach. The coldness felt fantastic against his lips and if Marcus wasn't giving him such a speculative look, he would have just rolled the can over his forehead. As it was, Tomas took another sip and looked at his bare feet.

"You weren't prying," Marcus spoke and gave Tomas a reassuring smile when he chanced a look.

"I won't lie, there were bad times. Kids can be pretty cruel, and feeling all alone doesn't help. But I got through and I can't be happier now."

It sounded like he was trying for a pep talk, or maybe make Tomas realize that the future could be brighter than it seemed. Maybe it would have worked... Tomas felt like he needed to open up to someone or he would just burst and he had questions, so many questions. Most of all he wanted to hear Marcus tell him that Gabriel wasn't real, that what he heard him say upstairs was a misunderstanding and the dream was just a dream.

But that's when Marcus put down the bottle of water and he shifted, turning a bit. And Tomas saw it. The scar on his right shoulder... in the form of a bite mark. At the exact same place where he saw the boy in the dream sink his teeth into Marcus.

Tomas felt as if the world narrowed into a single point... a single scar. He didn't see the sudden frown on Marcus's face, didn't see the man moving towards him. Tomas didn't hear Marcus calling out his name or put his hand on his face. All he sensed was the scar in the shape of a child's bite, all he could see was Gabriel, standing on that bed, bent in half, his head turning excruciatingly slowly until there was a snap and the body fell to the floor, limp.

Tomas felt his own body go limp, the shadows around him closing in and he expected the floor to hit him in the face when a pair of hands grabbed him.

The touch did it. It was as if someone just threw a bucket of cold water over his head. Tomas let out the breath he didn't know he was holding and looked at Marcus who was standing right next to him, one arm around his waist, the other holding his upper arm, eyes full of worry and mouth moving.

"Tomas!"

The sound was back and Tomas gave a shaky nod.

"I'm okay," he said but didn't protest when Marcus led him to a chair and pushed him to sit down. Next thing Tomas knew was Marcus's hand cupping his face, Marcus leaning a bit too close into his personal space, studying his face with scary intensity. Tomas jerked away and Marcus's eyes narrowed. He ran a hand over Tomas forehead then let his face go and just put a steadying hand on his shoulder before pulling up a chair and sitting opposite of him.

"What happened?" he asked without a preamble and Tomas didn't know what to say. How could he explain the storm that was currently raging in his mind? He felt like he was locked up in a small room filled with myriad of small, sharp puzzle pieces. It felt like he was trying to put the puzzle together for the last few years, but the sharp edges always cut him and he couldn't connect them, no matter how hard he tried. Until now. Seeing that bite on Marcus's shoulder after the dream was as if someone opened a window inside that room and let the light float in. Tomas could finally see the small connecting pieces that went around the sharp edges... he could finally start putting together the picture and first he thought the red on the pieces was his own blood, dripping from the shallow cuts on his fingertips, but then he realized it was part of the big picture. A picture that become more horrifying the more pieces Tomas managed to put together and he was sure he didn't want Marcus anywhere near him once he saw the whole thing. He knew for sure he didn't want  _anyone_  near him by that point.

But Marcus was still there, watching him with so much concern it pulled Tomas out of the room, at least for a second. He swallowed and tried for a reassuring smile.

"I'm sorry. I just... got a bit dizzy."

Marcus gritted his teeth.

"It looked like you forgot to breathe. Did you... see something?"

"See?" Tomas asked, his confusion over what Marcus meant mixed with worry that he could have figured it out. "I didn't... didn't see anything."

Marcus seemed to be doubting him, but couldn't very well accuse him of lying. In a way, Tomas even told the truth. He didn't see anything, except the scar. Not now at least.

Marcus sighed, a hand squeezing Tomas's knee.

"Are you still feeling dizzy?"

Tomas thought about it. Was he feeling dizzy? In a way... his mind was running at a dizzying speed and having to concentrate on Marcus as well was just making everything worse. Even though the concern Tomas could see emanating from the older man would make him feel touched in a way, right now it was suffocating and stealing his focus.

"I'm fine... it's just late. I think I should go back to bed."

Marcus couldn't really protest that idea, even though he looked like he wanted to. Tomas faked a yawn and rubbed at his eyes.

Marcus sighed and run his hand over Tomas's hair. Tomas forced himself not to flinch away. While the touch would've felt welcome only a few minutes ago, the pieces of the puzzle were still being connected and the resultant image brought real fear. As it was, Tomas nodded his head and made to get up.

"You sure you don't need anything?" Marcus asked, mirroring Tomas's move and standing by his side, as if afraid he would fall any moment. Tomas almost rolled his eyes.

"I'm fine, thanks. Just gonna head back to bed." Another yawn and Tomas headed out of the kitchen, acutely aware of Marcus shadowing him until he reached the door to the guest room. He paused there and turned.

"Sorry for... worrying you," Tomas said quietly and a bit embarrassed. Marcus just shook his head.

"Don't apologize. Just promise to call if you need anything, okay? Don't worry about waking me or Peter up."

Tomas felt a pang of regret as he looked up and lied straight to Marcus's face.

"Yeah, I'll call you if I need you."

Marcus nodded and waited in the hall until Tomas closed the door to the room. Tomas leaned back against the door and waited several minutes until he heard low voices from the next room. Then he stumbled towards the bed in the darkness and fell down on top of it. He waited in silence for another half an hour until he felt sure Marcus had fallen back to sleep. Then he rolled over, turned on the bedside lamp and took a pen and notebook from his backpack. The words of the prayer Marcus shouted at Gabriel in the dream were still vivid in his mind. He wrote them down, along with every gruesome detail he could remember. With each word on the paper another piece of the puzzle connected. Tomas knew he wouldn't be going back to sleep anytime soon. If anything of what he was thinking was true... Tomas wondered if he would be able to sleep ever again.

By the time morning came, the picture in Tomas's mind was beginning to make a scary sense, but he still had to find hard evidence, had to figure out what to do next. To figure out whether Marcus posed a threat or was his only chance.

When Tomas heard movement in the hall, he stashed the now full notebook back into his backpack and got out of the bed. He stifled a yawn and rubbed at his eyes, knowing he didn't get nearly enough sleep in the last few days but it would have to suffice for now. It wasn't like this was the first time he had to pretend he felt better than he did... ever since leaving Mexico he became something of a pro. Or at least that was what he was telling himself as he walked down the stairs.

The breakfast was a somewhat silent affair seeing as all three of them had disturbed sleep. Or maybe it was usual for Marcus and Peter. The radio was turned on, the smell of fresh coffee perking up all three occupants of the kitchen as Peter served the scrambled eggs and toast. Tomas's stomach grumbled unexpectedly and he earned a grin from Marcus. Tomas returned the smile, trying hard not to look at Marcus's shoulder. Even though now he had a shirt covering the scar, Tomas could see it clearly... it was a slightly darker stain in his aura.

"So what are your plans for today?" Peter asked as all three of them were finishing the food and Tomas shrugged.

"I need to go to the library then I'll hang out with Olivia." It was a sound plan, seeing as his sister was most probably already sleeping off the night shift.

"Library? On a Saturday?" Marcus grimaced. "If you don't have better plans, maybe you can join us... there's a fair by the lake. Sounds better than books."

Any other day and Tomas would've jumped at the chance to spend more time with Marcus and Peter and visiting the fair. To feel normal for a moment and have some fun. But right now he thought he needed to be as far from Marcus as possible.

"Sorry, I really need to return some books or I'll get a fine... and I want to make some lunch for Olivia later. She might go a bit easier on me that way for lying."

"Ah, a preventive strike. Good idea." Peter approved of the plan, though Tomas saw Marcus eyeing him with some suspicion. He threw in an innocent smile and hoped it would be enough.

There was no mention about his middle of the night stroll to the kitchen, nor were there questions of how he slept and why there were dark circles under his eyes. It suited Tomas and he relaxed a bit, easily accepting Marcus's offer at a ride home. While he didn't want to spend twenty minutes inside the car with Marcus and give him a chance at asking questions, he knew there was no sense in trying to convince the man to let him just walk home.

"We told your sister you'll get a ride home and that's what will happen. I don't want her unleashing that tongue on me again," Marcus said when Tomas shook his head and opened his mouth to say no. Tomas rolled his eyes.

"She's not that scary," he grumbled under his breath.

"That's why you're cooking her lunch today?" Marcus raised an eyebrow and Tomas sighed. Really no point in arguing about that.

"Where did you learn Spanish?" Tomas asked out of the blue five minutes into their drive when Marcus turned towards him looking like he had something on his mind. Marcus paused then shrugged.

"I spent a few months in Spain around my twenties."

"You learned it in few months?" Tomas looked doubtful.

"I have a knack for languages and once you know Latin, it's not that hard to learn Spanish. Maybe it goes both ways?"

Tomas thought about it and had to agree. Latin didn't seem so complicated; sometimes English seemed to be more of a minefield for him.

"So did you get a chance to use it outside of Spain?" Tomas asked trying to sound only mildly interested, softly nudging the questions into the direction he was interested in.

Marcus frowned a bit in thought then gave a light shrug.

"From time to time. I travelled a lot and plenty of people speak Spanish. Why the sudden interest?"

"No reason, was just curious. You seem to have travelled a lot."

"Yes, I did."

"As a priest?" Tomas knew he was prying, but he wanted to hear some kind of admission from Marcus, or maybe he was still hoping to hear something that would make his suspicion invalid.

They just reached an intersection and were waiting on a red light, so Marcus turned to Tomas, eyeing him curiously.

"Yes, I travelled a lot as a priest. Is there something you want to ask me, Tomas?" His tone was open and inviting and Tomas almost let the true questions slip from his mouth, but the car behind them suddenly honked as the light turned green and Tomas lost his courage. Marcus sensed it and with a sigh turned back towards the traffic.

"When did you know you wanted to be a priest?" Tomas asked after a moment, so quietly Marcus almost overheard. That question was hard to answer, mostly because Marcus never really wanted to become a priest. An exorcist, yes. But that was something else, something he wasn't willing to share with Tomas, not yet. So he went with the answer that was closest to the truth.

"I didn't exactly want to be a priest, not in a way you would think of a priest nowadays. But when father Sean took me in, I felt a need to give back. To the church, to God. And at one point, I felt the calling, I felt His presence. I think that sealed the deal for me."

"You felt His presence? Like...  _God_?" Tomas blinked, unsure what to make of it. Marcus looked like he wanted to explain, but there were things he was struggling with and Tomas didn't feel he had the right to push. "Sorry. I didn't mean to doubt you or something-" he quickly apologized, but Marcus waved it off.

"It is complicated, Tomas. Many things happened that don't make for happy memories, but yes, at one point, I felt His presence inside me. It was... something that can't really be described. The sheer enormity... the love..." Marcus shook his head, struggling to find the words, knowing he couldn't give it justice.

"So... you're saying God is real?"

"He is for me," Marcus answered instantly, then shot Tomas a look. "But I think everyone must find their own way to Him."

"Does... does it mean evil is real too?"

Marcus's grip on the wheel tightened, his jaw clenching.

"Yes. Yes, I think it is. I have... seen my fair share of it, just as I've seen a fair share of good. I think one can't exist without the other."

That wasn't what Tomas wanted to hear and it didn't settle the weird feeling inside his stomach, not by one bit. The rest of the ride was spent in a contemplative silence.

"So Monday another lesson? We should probably catch up on what we missed yesterday," Marcus said as Tomas was taking his bag from the back seat, ready to leave. Tomas looked up and a bit distractedly nodded.

"Yeah, sure. Monday."

"Is everything okay, Tomas?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I... thanks, for having me over yesterday."

Marcus nodded, though he still had a frown on his face.

"You know, if you need to talk about anything, I'm here for you. Be it school or nightmares. You can call me, anytime."

Tomas swallowed, feeling overwhelmed. He wanted to tell Marcus everything, but the image of Gabriel's neck snapping like a twig popped up in front of his mind, along with Marcus's anguished cry. No, he wasn't taking that risk.

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." He gave a grateful nod and left before Marcus could comment on the sudden choked quality of his voice.


	8. Chapter 8

For Marcus the weekend passed by at a slow crawl and even though he enjoyed every minute of it, still hard pressed to believe he got to be so lucky and live with someone like Peter, he was looking forward to Monday and school. He had an uneasy feeling ever since the impromptu night talk in the kitchen and even more so after their ride to Tomas's home. Something changed for the kid during that night and Marcus didn't have a clue what it could've been, but he knew it was nothing good. He needed to talk to Tomas, or at least make sure everything was alright.

He spotted a familiar figure in the hall during lunch break and Marcus headed towards him, but several students walked out of a class just then chatting loudly and before Marcus could pass them, Tomas vanished behind the corner. Through the day it happened twice more. Each time Marcus saw the dark mop of hair and the downcast look, watched the tense set of shoulders and even at the distance spotted the dark circles under his eyes. But each time they made eye contact, Tomas just gave a nod and a fake smile and before Marcus could reach him, he was gone. There was no doubt that he was trying to stay away from Marcus, for what purpose though Marcus didn't know. He also thought it a foolish endeavor, seeing as Tomas had class with him at the end of the day and then a tutoring session.

Marcus shrugged it off for a while, thinking that maybe the kid was just embarrassed for what happened, or his vanishing act was just a coincidence. He would wait till the end of class and then he would ask.

But he knew even before he put his things down on the desk for the last class of the day that something was seriously wrong. Tomas wasn't in class, his desk empty. There was no sign of his backpack either. Frowning, Marcus started the lesson, although his mood was decidedly not in it. When the bell rang it was to the relief of both Marcus and the students who weren't used to seeing him so grumpy and scampered out of the class as quickly as possible. Marcus didn't blame them, but he did pause at the desk of the young girl that seemed to be one of the few who treated Tomas with kindness.

"Mary, just a word please?"

She looked up from packing her bag, a bit surprised.

"Yes, Mr. Keane?"

"Do you know where Tomas is? Or why he wasn't in class today? I'm pretty sure I saw him in school."

Mary blushed a bit.

"I think he went home, sir."

"Home?" Marcus frowned. He really didn't think Tomas would play hooky from school.

Mary bit her lip nervously, obviously wishing she could be somewhere else. What Marcus saw in the gesture though was guilt. His eyes narrowed.

"Did something happen, Mary?"

"I don't want to get in trouble, Mr. Keane... or get Tomas in trouble."

"As long as no one got hurt, no one will get in trouble," Marcus quickly said and gave Mary an imploring look. Of course she balked.

"The guys were giving him a bit of a hard time... for what happened Friday," Mary said sheepishly and Marcus wanted to slap himself on the head. Of course Tomas would be reluctant about school after the fit. All the weekend he was thinking about what happened later in the night and he totally forgot about the scene in the class room and what it would mean to a teenager and his reputation.

"What did they do?" Marcus growled then raised his hand in apology when he saw Mary shrink back. "I'm not angry at you," he said more calmly. "I just want to know what happened."

"They didn't... they didn't really do anything. Mostly they were just taunting him, maybe tossing him around a bit in the hall. Nothing... out of the ordinary," she added, looking away and Marcus grit his teeth, because what she was describing was bullying and the fact she said it was normal made his skin crawl. "I think they were scared to really touch him or anything, in case he got all weird again."

"If it was all so normal, why didn't Tomas come to class?" Marcus asked, trying not to show anger in his voice.

Mary shrugged.

"He really didn't look that good. On the last hour he fell asleep in class. He jerked awake before Mrs. Charles noticed, but then he looked sick to his stomach so she sent him to the nurse. He came back at the end of the hour and packed his things."

"Thank you, Mary," Marcus said a bit absentmindedly and Mary quickly left the class. He leaned against the table, thinking whether he should go after the nurse and grill her or simply call the boy.

Seeing as he was in no mood to face the snappy nurse, Marcus pulled out his cell phone and dialed Tomas's number. The phone rang for a long moment, as if the person on the other side was contemplating whether to pick up or not. Marcus was just about ready to hang up when he heard the soft click and a raspy 'Hello?'

"Hey, this is Marcus. I was missing my star student in class today. Any idea where he went?" Marcus tried to keep his voice light and joking. Another moment of silence on the other side then a sigh.

"I'm sorry. I... didn't feel well and the nurse thought it best to send me home."

"Stomach bug? Or something else?" It was clear what Marcus meant by 'something else'.

"Stomach bug," Tomas replied wearily and Marcus was inclined to believe him.

"Is Olivia home tonight? If not, I can pick you up and you can spend the night at our place," Marcus offered, not even thinking about what he was really offering. But he wasn't thinking of Tomas as his student any more. It was very much as if God pointed him in the direction of the boy, nudging him kicking and screaming until he realized there was someone who needed his help, someone he needed to protect. Unfortunately, that realization came at a moment when Tomas seemed to do his best to keep away, whether consciously or not.

"No, Olivia is home, it's okay. I'm fine. Thanks for the offer, Marcus."

Marcus nodded into the phone.

"Of course. Are you coming to school tomorrow or are you staying home?"

There was another silence and a sigh, the sound of a scribbling pen.

"I'm not sure yet..."

"Okay, no problem. If you do, stop by. We can go over some of the material and catch up, okay?"

"Yeah... yeah, I'll do that. Thanks."

Tomas hung up, leaving Marcus with a feeling of someone being sidelined, which was ridiculous. But also very real, as Marcus found out the next day. Oh, Tomas did come to school as Marcus once again saw him in the hall, but just like the day before, the kid seemed to perfect his vanishing act. Marcus expected him to stop by between classes; he even tried to track him down during the lunch break, but no luck. If Tomas was good at something it was staying hidden. By the time the last bell rung and Marcus was free to leave the school he knew Tomas was already gone.

Marcus was sitting in his car, contemplating his next action. He already tried to call Tomas but he only got redirected to voicemail after several rings. Marcus knew he had no right to request Tomas's presence... the kid had a nurse's pass for the last class and the fact he had blown off a private lesson with Marcus wasn't a nice move, but it wasn't really a school matter. If anyone would've been keeping watch on Marcus and his interaction with Tomas it could be cause for concern. If the situation was normal. But it was not. Marcus wasn't just a normal teacher, he was an exorcist. Oh, he might've given up being a priest, but no one could get the exorcist out of his blood. It was who he was, who he will die as and step in front of his God to admit his faults once on the other side. And Tomas... Tomas wasn't just a student, that much Marcus knew. He was his protégé... given to him by God.

With that thought, Marcus turned on the engine and headed in the opposite direction from his house. He wasn't really thinking about what he would say or how he would explain his presence. There was just a feeling deep inside his chest, coursing through his veins, that he must go and do something. So he drove, barely registering the road or traffic, until he parked the car in front of Tomas's apartment building.

He paused at the locked front door and started looking through the buzzers, finding the right name, but the button was broken, just like most of the others. Sighing, Marcus was ready to try his luck and lock picking skills, when the door opened and out came an old lady with a small, snappy dog. Marcus looked down, careful not to step on the dog that looked to be a cross between a Chihuahua and a broom. He put on a friendly smile and tried not to grit his teeth as the little devil snapped at his feet.

„What an adorable little munchkin," he spoke with a chuckle and a charming smile that made the old lady ignore the fact he was putting a hand on the closing door and slipping around her.

„That's Princess. She seems to like you," the lady said, ignoring the fact the dog was yapping. Or maybe it was just what it always did. Marcus bit into his lip, trying not to show the utter disbelief on his face while he pushed past, one foot already in the door. The old lady seemed to pause with a frown.

"Are you new here, young man? I haven't seen you yet. Did you just move in?" She started and Marcus could see she was becoming alert to what he was doing. He could also see the small pepper spray can she had in her hand along with her keychain.

"Oh no, I don't live here. I'm visiting Olivia."

"Ortega?" The name must've worked like a charm, because the lady visibly relaxed, then gave Marcus a quick once over that made him blush.

"Ah, it's time Olivia found herself a nice lad. And from England too! That is very exciting!"

Marcus opened his mouth, trying to protest all the conclusions, but in the end he just sighed and smiled acceptingly. He wasn't here to socialize; he just needed to find Tomas that was all.

"Yes, thank you. But I'm already a bit late and her buzzer seems to be broken. You won't mind if I rush in?"

"Of course not! Say hello for me. I barely get a chance to see that girl, she's working too much lately-" The lady was still speaking but Marcus just gave her a friendly nod and rushed away, leaving the yapping dog and the woman behind as the door closed.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Marcus paused at the mailboxes, trying to decipher on which floor could Tomas be living at. Unfortunately the mailboxes didn't give up any clue so he had to do it the old way. Stepping in the elevator Marcus rode up to the highest floor and from there went down floor by floor. Finally he stood in front of the door, reading the nametag Ortega. He hesitated before knocking, but then felt some invisible nudge. Shaking his head at his own mind playing tricks with him, Marcus finally knocked on the door.

He wasn't sure what he expected. Either Tomas opening the door or maybe a long few minutes standing in the hall without success. He didn't expect the door to open almost instantly, a haggard looking Olivia hopping into a shoe welcoming him with a surprised: "You?"

There was a second of silence then Olivia finally managed to get her foot inside the shoe and stood straight, holding the door open a bit wider.

"Were you expecting someone else?" Marcus asked with a small smirk then his face turned serious. "I'm sorry to come so unexpectedly, but I needed to talk to Tomas. Is he home?"

Olivia frowned then shook her head, taking a step back.

"No, he isn't. I thought... he was supposed to be at your place?" she gestured for Marcus to come inside and he did, looking around the small entry hall. There was barely enough space for a shoe rack and a closet, yet the walls were filled with photos and trinkets, he even saw a cross and a rosary.

"I'm sorry; it's a bit dirty in here... I-I was just on my way to work." Olivia led him towards the living room, grabbing clothing strewn across the couch and throwing it onto a chair in the corner distractedly, then running a hand over her hair, pausing in the middle of the room. "I don't understand. Isn't Tomas with you?"

Marcus could see she was confused and busy, probably way too lost. He walked up to her and gently put his hands on her shoulders in a calming gesture.

"He's not, but calm down. I'm sure he's fine, just... has other things on his mind."

Olivia shook her head.

"No, you don't understand. I talked to him on the phone and asked when he's coming home and he said he's with you, catching up on the tutoring lesson he missed yesterday. Was he supposed to be with you? What if something happened-" she was starting to panic and Marcus squeezed her shoulder.

"Hey, it's okay. When did you speak to him?"

"About half an hour ago," Olivia said and took a calming breath. Marcus nodded and led her towards the couch. He knew for a fact that Tomas was already gone from school, his last class having ended almost two hours ago. There was no reason why Tomas would head to Marcus's place alone when he knew Marcus was waiting for him at school. That meant Tomas had lied to Olivia. Now they only needed to figure out why and where the hell he was and once they knew he was okay, give him a proper tongue lashing. Because Marcus didn't appreciate being used as a scapegoat and to be honest, he didn't appreciate the crawling feeling of worry Tomas managed to bring out in him either. If this was what parents felt like all the time, Marcus was sure he would rather stick to dogs and cats. Maybe leave the worrying to Peter for once.

"Can you call him?" Marcus turned to Olivia who already had her phone out and was dialing her brother. Just like for Marcus though her call went into voicemail and her panic seemed to deepen.

"He's not picking up. I knew something was wrong..." she muttered under her breath, then seemingly came to a decision and started playing with her phone. Marcus frowned, trying to figure out what she was doing.

"What do you mean?" he asked while Olivia was opening an application on her phone. She spared him a look of anger mixed with worry.

"For the last few weeks he was acting weird. I don't know what's wrong, but his nightmares are getting worse and I caught him being sick to his stomach a few times. I got the note from the nurse about the stomach bug, but that isn't it. Tomas is just... off." She seemed to find what she was looking for and her eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in annoyance.

"The library again? Seriously? He lied to me to go to the library?!" She looked up, almost hurt.

"How do you know where he is?" Marcus asked, puzzled and Olivia showed the phone to him, with a small map and a blinking red dot.

"He's on my family plan. I activated this last week, after... well, after I found out he was at your place." She blushed a little.

"You're following your brother?" Marcus raised an eyebrow and his tone was a mix of disbelief and admiration.

"I have to. With his condition... anything can happen."

"I'm not judging you, Olivia," Marcus said, returning the phone to her with a smile. "Quite the opposite. It's a really smart move."

"Thank you. The library would explain the voice mail... he always turns the sound down. I just don't understand why he couldn't simply tell me. And why is he spending so much time there..."

"What do you mean? So much time?"

"When he came home Saturday he just let me know he's going to the library and was off again. I didn't mind, I was going to sleep anyway, but then he brought back all those weird books. When I tried to take him out on Sunday for a walk and a movie, I almost had to drag him away. And yesterday he was back in those books even though he was sick."

"What books? Can I see them?" The crawling feeling of unease was back in full and Marcus worried what he might find. He really hoped Tomas didn't start dabbling in things that could get him in trouble.

"I don't know what they are... the titles are mostly in Latin. I thought they were something for that Certamen thing..."

"They might be, but I'd like to see them anyway. Might help us figure out what's on his mind lately."

Olivia seemed hesitant for a second, but she looked back at the phone with the map still on and it seemed to help her decide.

"I'll show you to his room."

Marcus was used to investigate rooms, to search for clues, but entering Tomas's room felt different. It felt somehow wrong, as if he was breaking the boy's trust, and so Marcus refrained from touching everything. His eyes still took in every detail, the posters of Mexican football clubs covering the walls, a photo of Tomas and an older woman, possibly his Abuelita on the bed stand. There were a few photos with Tomas and Olivia as children, but not one picture of his mother or father. Marcus put that detail away for future reference. He noted the made bed and the fact everything seemed to be in its place. Tomas was either very conscientious or OCD about keeping his room clean. In either case, it didn't leave that many clues for Marcus to work with... except of course the two books lying on the table. He ruffled through the pages of a Bible and put it aside, more interested in the other book. It was a title he knew well. Minor Exorcisms and Deliverance Prayers: In Latin and English. Marcus had a copy of the book somewhere, although it was only in Latin. He could have waved it off as coincidence, just a book Tomas picked because it had both Latin and English in it, but Marcus knew that would be just lying to himself. Tomas somehow must've figured out Marcus was an exorcist or - which wasn't any better - he figured that the fits were caused by something that was far from natural. In either case, the boy was probably freaking out and spent all those days researching. Marcus knew it was time he told Tomas the truth, however scary it might've been. Returning both books to their original place, Marcus looked up. Olivia was standing in the door, still worried but at the same time throwing impatient looks at her watch.

"You need to go?" Marcus asked and she nodded, biting her lip.

"I do, but... I am worried. I don't know what to do anymore." She looked on the verge of tears and Marcus was quick to step close and offer a hug. She accepted it; latched onto him like a drowning person and Marcus realized how young she really was and how much responsibility she got handed over to her.

"Shh, it's okay, love. You're not alone in this. I'll do everything I can to help Tomas."

Olivia sniffled then pulled back a little, blushing.

"Sorry. I'm just... I haven't slept all that much. Tomas kept waking up from nightmares, screaming or calling for someone and I don't know who Gabriel even is, but none of us got enough sleep and I'm a mess-" she rambled and didn't note the sudden tension of Marcus's body until he stuttered.

"G-Gabriel?"

She looked up with a frown, taking note of the look of shock on Marcus's face.

"Yes, Gabriel. He keeps calling that name, but... it's all wrong. Painful. And I know he doesn't go back to sleep afterwards."

"When... when did this start?" Marcus asked, his throat suddenly dry and slightly shaking. Olivia's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"He's having nightmares since mom died, but... he mentioned Gabriel after coming back from your house. You know who that is? Did something happen Friday?" Now it was her who stepped into Marcus's personal space, but it wasn't to offer comfort but rather a threat. There was that fire of protectiveness in her eyes Marcus saw few days back when they first met and he would have admired it, were it not for the fact he was too busy trying to figure out what happened to Tomas.

"Gabriel... Gabriel was a boy I was trying to help, back in the day. In Mexico. I don't know how Tomas knows about him... maybe it's not even him-" Marcus shook his head, now rambling himself.

"What happened to him?" Olivia pushed, though she already seemed to know the answer.

"He was sick... he died. I couldn't save him. But Tomas..."

Olivia's eyes widened.

"What does that have to do with Tomas? And why would a priest be called to help a sick boy?" Her voice was raising and Marcus knew he had to diffuse the situation, to calm her down or any future contact with Tomas would be made all the more difficult.

"I was there to offer comfort to the boy and the family. I failed and Gabriel died. I can't explain what happened and I don't have a clue how Tomas found out about it, but I promise it has nothing to do with Tomas. I won't let anything like that happen to Tomas," Marcus promised, looking Olivia straight in the eyes, his voice sincere. They stood there for a moment, Olivia sizing him up, trying to find a lie in his words but encountering only truth.

"Can you stop those nightmares?" She asked after what felt like eternity but lasted only seconds. Marcus gave a shaky nod.

"I think so. I need to talk to him first, explain about Gabriel, and figure out how... what even happened. Then... then we can try and stop the nightmares."

"He likes you," Olivia said suddenly, catching Marcus by surprise. "He  _trusts_  you. Tomas doesn't trust easily... he was hurt by too many people he loved. Please... don't be one of them."

Marcus swallowed, feeling as if the weight of the world was just put on his shoulder, instead of a well being of a fifteen year old boy he barely knew. Still, he nodded.

"I will do my best to not disappoint that trust."

"You better. Or God help me, I  _will_  hunt you down and hurt you." Olivia said, her voice equally firm, her eyes fierce and Marcus couldn't help but smile.

"Good. Tomas needs someone like you on his side."

With that he headed for the door then turned.

"I'll call you when I find him... will you be home tonight?"

Olivia grimaced then shook her head.

"I can't. If I don't take this shift I'll get in trouble. I already stayed home last night because he was sick."

"He'll stay at our place then, if it's okay."

Olivia shrugged.

"As long as you can get him to sleep... and stop lying about his whereabouts, I'm fine with that."

"Good. Don't worry. It'll all work itself out."

* * *

Marcus reached the library without even remembering the road there. He was moving on autopilot, his mind somewhere else. He was thinking back to that Friday night, remembering catching Tomas on the stairs just after his nightmare. Could it be Tomas was eavesdropping to him and Peter?

Marcus frowned even as he entered the library, thinking hard what he said that night, but it was all a blur to him. He remembered talking about Gabriel a bit, remembered the too real fear and pain of the nightmare, though it was all wrapped in a warm embrace of Peter. He didn't think anything that was said would make too much sense to Tomas even if he overheard however. Which posed a question - what did Tomas know about Gabriel and how did he find out? Based on the bible and the book of exorcisms in Tomas's room, he knew enough to get scared.

Shaking his head a bit Marcus tried to get his head back in the game. Right now he needed to find the kid, which, he realized when looking around the huge library, might take a bit of time.

"Can I help you, mister?" asked a stern looking woman behind the counter as Marcus walked up to it. He put on a sheepish smile, his hand automatically touching the pamphlets lying on the counter.

"Actually, yes, I think you can. I'm sorry, I don't have a card, but I need to find someone who is inside the library."

Her eyebrows went up, while at the same time she looked sternly at Marcus's hand which was obviously making a mess on her counter. Marcus pulled it back, suddenly hit with a memory of a stern nun at the boy's home who liked to whack him across the fingers with a ruler any time his hands weren't on the book or writing. Marcus was anticipating the swish of a ruler at any second.

"Well, you can go in without a card as long as you don't borrow anything."

Marcus nodded, happy that he won't have to deal with bureaucracy. He ventured inside the library and started going through the aisles. The room was huge and Marcus quickly realized finding Tomas even if he was in there could be a real problem, especially if he was moving around. It was something of a labyrinth really, with many nooks and corners to hide in. Marcus managed to startle a pair of teenagers making out in one such place, and found another student just sleeping with his head burrowed in a book. And he was still just on the first floor, the damn library had several of them.

Realizing he might in fact need a bit of help, he reluctantly returned to the counter with the librarian. He waited impatiently until she finished pestering a man for late fees then turned towards him.

"Would you like to peruse a library card now, mister?" she asked with a smirk and Marcus barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

"No. I just really need to find the boy. His sister is looking for him but he isn't picking up his phone. It's a medical emergency. Can you... can you at least tell me if he's even there or call him through the PA system or something?" Marcus rushed out, and he must've looked desperate enough to break through the woman's walls. Or maybe it was the use of the words medical emergency that made the trick.

"We don't have a PA system set up that way, I'm sorry," she said and this time she looked like she meant it. "But maybe I can help. It is pretty quiet here today. What's the boy's name or description?"

Marcus sent a quiet Hail Mary to the man upstairs and allowed himself a grateful smile.

"Tomas Ortega. He's fifteen, about neigh high, dark hair, brown eyes-"

"Oh, Tomas?" The woman's eyes softened and she nodded. "I know the boy. He's here almost every day, especially the last few weeks. I'm sorry, you missed him. He left just a few minutes before you came."

Marcus cursed under his breath.

"Do you know where he was heading?"

"No. I hope it was home though. He looked about to fall asleep on his feet."

Marcus nodded his thanks and left the building, looking around as if hoping to catch sight of the boy, but knew he was already late. He once again tried his cell phone, hoping the kid would've turned on the ringing once he left the library, but it went straight to voicemail this time.

Marcus paused on the steps of the library, taking in a deep breath. He was panicking but there was no reason to panic. Tomas was most probably already on his way home and Olivia still had the app so she could find him again. All Marcus needed was to call her back and possibly head back to Tomas's house. He started walking towards his car when he changed his mind. Tomas was on foot, his apartment was only a few blocks away. Maybe he could catch up to him yet. So Marcus started walking down the street, his eyes looking for a familiar mop of head. He was still playing with the phone idly and as someone knocked into him on the busy street it almost went flying from his grip. Cursing after the guy, Marcus put the phone away and noted he was actually standing right in front of a church.

Something inside him stirred. That familiar longing and he didn't even know where his feet were leading him until he stepped inside. The coolness and semi darkness of the church felt like a balm on his soul. He hadn't visited a church for far too long. Even though he wasn't excommunicated but rather left on his own volition, he had a feeling he didn't belong, that he didn't have the right to be there. But maybe he was mistaken. Putting his fingers in the holy water and taking a knee before crossing himself, Marcus muttered a silent prayer and asked for forgiveness. Maybe sometime in the future he might even find enough courage to go to confession. Right now though he needed to help someone else to find their way.

Marcus was about to turn when he noted a familiar figure sitting in the last pew, head bowed, lips moving in prayer. Marcus blinked then looked at the figure of Jesus on the cross that was hanging from the ceiling in front of him.

"You do love working in mysterious ways, huh?" he muttered and felt awe settle over his soul, along with a wave of warmth. Marcus sat down in the last pew as well, only a feet or two away from Tomas, who seemed to be lost in thought. Marcus gave him a quick once over and wasn't happy with what he saw. Tomas's skin looked grayish and his hands holding the praying book were shaking slightly. The fact it took the boy a whole minute to realize someone was sitting right next to him even though the church was mostly empty was also alarming.

Tomas looked up shortly then froze as it took him a second to register Marcus. When he did, he visibly jerked and swallowed, his whole posture stiffening. Marcus could've sworn he saw a glint of fear in those brown eyes but it was gone too fast for him to be sure. Still, he frowned, disliking the idea that Tomas could ever have a reason to fear him.

"Hey," Tomas quietly said and Marcus replied "Hey yourself," in an equally hushed tone.

Tomas looked around as if searching for the presence of someone else, taking in the few people sitting sporadically in the other pews, not paying them any attention. He cleared his throat and put the praying book in his hands aside, as if ashamed of being caught in prayer.

"What... what are you doing here?" he asked, eyes only sweepingly catching Marcus's sight then quickly turning front and center, focusing on the statue of Jesus on the cross.

"I could ask you the same thing," Marcus said, keeping his voice soft, trying not to spook the boy. "We were supposed to catch up on some Latin if I'm not mistaken."

"So you what... stalked me?" Tomas frowned, fidgeting nervously.

"No, of course not. But you know how the saying goes, if the mountain doesn't come to Mohamed, Mohamed goes to the mountain."

"Still doesn't explain how you found me."

"I went to your place, met Olivia. Your sister was rather surprised you weren't with me, actually."

At the mention of his sister's name Tomas looked up, startled.

"I'm not sure how I should feel about the fact you lied about me to your sister not once but twice." Marcus didn't even have to pretend, the slight hurt was obvious in his voice. Tomas had the decency to look a bit ashamed at least as he ducked his head.

"That wasn't my plan," he muttered under his breath.

"Lying right inside the church? That's ballsy," Marcus said with a bit of humor and watched as Tomas clenched his teeth and shook his head, but didn't say another word. Marcus let out a heavy sigh.

"We really do need to talk, Tomas," he said seriously and for the first time since their parted ways on Saturday morning Tomas turned to fully face him, unblinking. Marcus was taken aback by how  _weary_  the kid really looked. This wasn't just physical weariness either. It was as if the weight of the whole world was on his shoulder and he was slowly but surely crumbling under it, bit by bit. Marcus couldn't stop the worry from showing on his own face and he reached out, putting a hand on Tomas's arm, wishing to take away some of that weight, to offer any help possible.

"Tell me how I can help." Marcus said and it sounded almost like a plea. Tomas gave a small, barely perceptible nod.

"Are you an exorcist?"

The question shouldn't have been surprising, not after Marcus found the books in Tomas's room. Yet it still caught him by surprise, the suddenness of it. No playing around anymore. Tomas seemed to go straight to the main topic. Marcus closed his eyes for a second then gave a nod, feeling Tomas's eyes boring into him.

"I used to be one. I'm not anymore... not by the church's standard."

Tomas nodded as if he was expecting that answer, yet still Marcus noted his breath quickening, the fingers on his right hand fidgeting, curling into a fist then relaxing repeatedly.

"You believe in God and the Devil," Tomas drily stated. "Do you also believe in demons?"

Marcus threw another look toward the Jesus on the cross, as if asking him for help or strength to continue this conversation, to not botch things up.

"Yes, I do," he said simply. There was no sense in lying about it to spare Tomas's feelings. "It is kind of a requirement to being an exorcist actually," he said, trying to ease the conversation with a bit of humor, but Tomas didn't even crack a smile. His face was set in stone.

"Was Gabriel real?"

Marcus knew there would be a question about Gabriel, was inwardly preparing for it ever since he left Olivia's place. Still, when it came, he felt ice in the pit of his stomach and knew his face must've shown some emotion, because Tomas blinked, startled.

"Yes, he was real. How... how do you know about Gabriel?"

There was a moment of silence and Tomas looked to be fighting down sudden nausea. Marcus could feel him trembling under his hand and he gave Tomas's shoulder a supportive squeeze.

"Tomas? Did you hear me talking about him last Friday night?" Marcus tried and was becoming more and more worried by the way Tomas's whole form started shaking. His eyes glistened with sudden tears even as he gave a small shake of head.

"Tell me, Tomas," Marcus said, his hand moving to cup the boy's face. Tomas seemed to get lost in that touch, some invisible barrier falling.

"I wasn't trying to eavesdrop," he whispered. "I had a dream and I got sick-"

"It's okay. Whatever you heard, I can explain..." Marcus said but Tomas shook his head.

"It's not what I heard, Marcus. It's... what I  _saw_."

Marcus froze, trying to make sense of the words.

"I don't understand. What did you see?" Marcus asked with a frown on his face and Tomas took in a breath, bracing himself. Then he told him, his voice barely above a whisper, but Marcus didn't really need to hear every word to know. He lived through it after all and judging by Tomas's words, he did as well. The boy described every detail of the room Gabriel was held in. He recounted things Marcus never spoke about, not even to Peter. There was no way the boy could've known, except he did.

When Tomas quoted the nursery rhyme in Spanish at him, Marcus felt his own stomach churn. When Tomas spoke about the shadow taking over Gabriel's whole body just as the third pupil appeared, Marcus felt as if time stopped. He was back in that room himself, Tomas's shaky voice whispering the words from far away as Marcus saw Gabriel losing his fight. He could  _feel_  the darkness taking over, but he could never see it... not until now with Tomas's description. This was the moment he truly lost Gabriel. Everything else... the following hours spent in prayer were just the demon playing games with him.

"-he bent over and there was a crack and then... then his head started turning-" Tomas's eyes were wide with horror, filled with tears and sickness and Marcus was pulled back to reality as if he got slapped on the face.

"Stop!" he said, louder than he should've, getting several people turning towards them. He didn't care. The only important thing right now was Tomas. Tomas, who was obviously too lost in his own mind, his face screwed up in horror as he couldn't stop, his mouth moving silently, like a fish out of water.

"Stop it, Tomas," Marcus pleaded, both hands holding Tomas's face, his thumbs wiping away the silent tears on the boy's face.

In his peripheral vision Marcus noted the approach of a priest and he chanced a look up from Tomas, giving the man a resolute shake of head. The priest stopped a few feet from them.

"Do you need any help, son?" he asked, not dissuaded by Marcus's glare. He logically knew the priest was just worried and trying to offer help, but Marcus felt a strong wave of territoriality sweep over him. Tomas was his to protect, his to offer spiritual guidance. Tomas just opened up to him and Marcus would be damned if he let some other priest swoop in and let that progress get lost.

"We're alright, father." Marcus spoke, his voice steel, but the priest was nothing if not persistent as he reached out and touched Tomas on the shoulder.

"Are you sure?"

The stranger's touch did what Marcus didn't manage... it pulled Tomas back into reality, even though it was a rather violent comeback. Tomas jerked away, eyes wide and unblinking as he scooted back, towards Marcus. The priest realized his mistake and put his hands up in a gesture indicating he meant no harm. Marcus wanted to growl at him but was surprised by Tomas backing up into him, so all he could do was grab the teenager and steady him.

"It's okay, calm down. You're safe," Marcus said, repeating it several times until Tomas finally took in his surroundings.

"I-I'm sorry, father, I... I need to go," Tomas stuttered, embarrassed by being once again the center of everyone's attention as well as still looking shaken from his recounting. Not giving any of the men a chance to speak, Tomas bolted, running out of the church. Marcus cursed.

"I've got this," Marcus said to the priest who looked to be intent on following the boy out of concern, even as Marcus was already on his feet. He didn't look back to check if the priest got the memo, he was just hoping that Tomas in his confusion didn't run out into the traffic.

Luck was on his side though. Tomas didn't make it far, barely to the corner of the church, where he was now bent over, one hand leaning against the cold stone of the building, while the other was clutching at his stomach. His eyes were closed and he was breathing hard, fighting off another bout of nausea.

"Oh kid," Marcus put a hand on his back, getting a wince in response before Tomas recognized his voice.

"It was real... all of it," Tomas said between bouts of dry heaving and Marcus knew it wasn't a question but a statement.

"I'm afraid so," he still said and cringed when he heard Tomas's breathing quicken.

"Hey, let's go. You need a break, kid."

Marcus took hold of Tomas's arm when it looked like the heaving stopped. He was still startled by the flinch and the look of fear in Tomas's eyes as he led him back towards his parked car.

"Olivia knows I'm taking you home with me," he soothed the teen, reminding himself to actually send a message to Olivia once he got the chance and to update her. "Come on, you need to lie down then we need to talk."

The drive to Marcus's house was spent in total silence. The only words Tomas uttered were "I can do it," when Marcus navigated him into the passenger seat and was about to secure the seatbelt. He let Tomas do it, then got into the driver's seat and started the car. He looked over towards Tomas, noting his pallor with worry. The teen was looking out of the passenger window, squinting as if it was too bright, even though the weather was downcast and the sun was hidden behind dark clouds. At one point, while the car stopped at a crossroad and a group of people passed by, Tomas visibly flinched and grit his teeth, then he shut his eyes firmly, fists clenched. Marcus let him rest, wondering just what was running through the teens head causing all that anguish and what could he do to stop it.


	9. Chapter 9

When they arrived, Marcus opened the door to the house and Tomas somehow reluctantly stepped in. He diligently took off his shoes then headed for the living room, his movements tense and automatic. Marcus paused, making a quick detour to the kitchen. While he grabbed a bottle of water, he sent a quick text to Olivia letting her know he found Tomas and that he is alright. Pocketing the phone, Marcus headed back to the living room. He felt like he could use a shot of something strong but knew he needed a clear head for what was to come.

Tomas was sitting in the middle of the couch, looking like he saw death itself. Marcus sat down next to him and offered him the bottle of water. He was dismayed by the flinch he got in return as Tomas realized his proximity. Gritting his teeth with desperation, Marcus waited until Tomas opened the bottle with shaky hands and took a small sip of water, but when he cast a careful look towards Marcus, he had enough.

„Talk to me, Tomas." Marcus pleaded. „Why are you scared of me? I would never hurt you."

„You're an exorcist," Tomas said, eyes wide and scared, desperate.

„I was. And yes, Gabriel was possessed. I know it had to be horrible to watch what happened. I was there... I know. And I'm sorry. But you don't have to fear me, Tomas. I swear on my life. I would never hurt you." Marcus repeated and thought he would repeat it till the end of times if needed. But Tomas shook his head, the lost look in his eyes too similar to what Marcus saw in the mirror at St. Aquinas, before Peter pulled him back.

„I... I was reading about possession... about exorcism. I... I wanted to know...if... if I was possessed. But I'm not, I swear!" Tomas looked at Marcus, his eyes pleading with him to believe him. „I went to the church, I drank the holy water and nothing happened! I never let them inside... not once!" Tomas started babbling, pleading with Marcus incomprehensibly and Marcus froze, his blood running cold.

„What are you talking about? Who?" he asked and his own voice sounded far away, cold and detached. Tomas sniffled, eyes teary and unfocused.

„The shadows. The voices. I... I can feel them scratching at my mind... trying to get in. But I never let them! I swear! I will never let them get that close... I swear on my life. I don't want to die like Gabriel!" Tomas sobbed and Marcus couldn't stand it anymore. He pulled Tomas into a hug, ignoring the initial flinch and started rocking him gently. He didn't even realize when tears started running down his own face.

„My god Tomas, you're not possessed, of course I know that!" He said as Tomas's head burrowed in his chest and the boy returned the embrace, suddenly clinging to him with all might.

„But... I'm hearing voices ... and I can see the demons... it's like a shadow, dark and scary, latched onto some people. I thought... I thought it was just me... that I'm crazy, that all those dreams were just dreams, but... but if Gabriel was real, then all those other things might've been real too and by god, Marcus... all those people, they suffered horribly! They died and they murdered and I didn't stop it... I couldn't stop any of it and it's all my fault and I don't want to die that way!"

Tomas gave a choked sob and Marcus felt his heart breaking in two once again. He didn't want to release his hold, but something Tomas said made him pause, his whole body going stiff. Marcus pulled back a bit, both arms holding Tomas's shoulders, then he gave him an imploring look.

„What other people? Tomas, what are you talking about?" Marcus asked, his own voice shaking.

„The d-dreams. I had so many of them..." Tomas was trembling and his face blanched as his eyes got that lost look again. Suddenly he bolted from the couch and ran towards the bathroom. Marcus cursed and once again followed him. The speed was useless; it wasn't like Tomas had anything left to bring up except for the sip of water. Marcus still rubbed his back, muttered soothing words and handed him a wet towel when Tomas's body slid down to the floor, spent and exhausted. Marcus sat down next to him on the cold bathroom floor and pulled Tomas into an embrace. They didn't move, except for Marcus's hand rubbing Tomas's shoulder, until the boy finally found his voice.

"I didn't know it was real... that any of that was real," Tomas said feverishly and Marcus shook his head.

„Maybe it wasn't," he tried but Tomas shook his head, then burrowed it in Marcus's chest.

„It was the same... it's always the same." He muttered and Marcus had to strain to hear, to understand.

"What is the same, Tomas?" Marcus gently nudged. There was a momentary silence, then a hitched sob.

"I'm doing something and everything goes white... then I hear voices, see images flash in front of my eyes. Sometimes... sometimes I catch them right then... sometimes I remember in a dream, when I sleep. But it's always someone dying or someone killing... there's always darkness and pain. And I thought it was just a nightmare, but then I saw your scar and it happened. Everything happened."

Marcus didn't know what to say to that. He wanted to ask what were those other dreams about, but the boy in his arms was trembling and terrified and all Marcus could do was hold him and offer comfort. That was how Peter found them some time later, still huddled together on the bathroom floor. Peter froze in the door, seeing Tomas's shaking form. The boy's head pushed against Marcus's chest kept slipping as his eyes were falling close, but within few seconds he jerked awake, blinking wildly.

"What's wrong?" Peter asked in a hushed tone, seeing that Marcus didn't look that much better than Tomas himself. Still, there was relief in his eyes when Peter arrived, as if his presence gave him strength to move. Marcus mouthed 'later' at Peter then nudged Tomas.

"Come on, let's get you to bed."

Tomas's eyes popped open once again and he looked around dazedly, finally taking in Peter's presence. Despite that, he stubbornly shook his head.

"No quiero dormir," Tomas muttered sluggishly and Peter frowned. He squatted down next to the teen, running a hand over his forehead and cheeks, checking for fever, looking at the half open eyes red from exhaustion and the dark smudges underneath. He noted the dry, flushed skin and exchanged a concerned look with Marcus.

"When's the last time you got any decent sleep?" Peter asked, finger tapping at Tomas's chin to get a response.

"I kept seeing Gabriel," Tomas muttered and Peter's eyes went wide. He shot a quick look at Marcus but his lover didn't seem the least bit surprised. He knew there was a talk in their near future, but right now they needed to take care of Tomas.

"I think he hasn't really slept since he was here last time," Marcus was the one who answered Peter's original question.

"That's four days!" Peter exclaimed and Tomas startled at the sound.

„Okay, bed, now!" Peter said resolutely, his voice breaking no argument.

„Please, I don't want to dream," Tomas started pleading but Peter shook his head.

„Sorry kid, but you really can't go without sleep. You'll only feel worse the longer this goes on."

Peter knew what he was talking about; he suffered from plenty of nightmares when he came back from the tour in Afghanistan. He tried everything... from alcohol, sleeping pills, up to not sleeping at all. The last being the worst solution, as after several days the hallucinations came and they were just as bad if not worse than the nightmares. What was worse, they felt much more real and never-ending... inescapable. Peter wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy, and he definitely wasn't about to let Tomas experience that.

"Come on," he said and with Marcus's help he dragged Tomas up the stairs, to the guest room. The boy seemed to balk at the sight of the bed, but Peter could be just as stubborn as the teenager. He felt like the bad cop as he maneuvered the protesting kid to bed, while Marcus was trying to play the good cop and kept reassuring the boy he was safe and there would be no nightmares. Tomas finally relented, probably more from physical exhaustion than anything else. He slumped down in the bed, but he clammed up, sulking. He looked determined to stay awake. Peter ran a hand over his hair, sighing. Marcus settled next to Tomas, leaning against the headboard, long legs stretched out on top of the covers, while Tomas was lying on his side with his back to Marcus, mulishly looking at the window, jerking awake every time his eyes slipped closed for more than a few seconds.

"You can't stay awake forever, Tomas," Marcus spoke softly, his hand gently running over Tomas's hair in a soothing manner. Peter suppressed a snort when he saw Tomas at the same time lean into the touch yearningly, while also grimacing and looking like an angry teenager he was, offended at being treated like a kid.

"I can try," he said back, earning a sigh from Marcus, who then shot a pleading look towards Peter.

"I'm thirsty. Do you want something to drink?" Peter asked, receiving a shrug from both forms on the bed. He rolled his eyes and left the room. Few minutes later he came back with three mugs of hot chocolate. He handed one to Marcus, shaking his head when Marcus reached for a different mug. Frowning, Marcus mouthed a silent 'What?'

Peter mouthed back 'Sleeping pill' and pointed out the mug that wasn't tampered with. Marcus looked a bit uncertain so Peter just gave him the 'trust me' look.

"Hey kid, do you fancy some hot chocolate?" Marcus took the mug for Tomas and waved it in front of his nose. He wasn't sure whether the boy felt up for anything, not after being sick. But the smell must've been enticing, or maybe Tomas just wanted to chase away the bad taste in his mouth. He stirred and sat up, eyeing the mug with the hot chocolate with some suspicion.

Peter made a point of sipping from his own mug and Marcus took a whiff of his own, putting on a satisfied smile.

"Ah, hot chocolate. Nothing better for the soul. I remember that was the only thing the nuns did real well in the boy's home... well, hot chocolate and the ear clipping," Marcus rubbed at his ear in mock pain and Tomas looked at him with slight confusion, but also somehow interested at the change of topic. Marcus smirked and sipped from his mug and Tomas did the same, his hands curling around the hot mug with appreciation of the heat seeping into cold hands.

"Yeah... I remember nun Anastasia I think... she was very fond of clipping ears any time we as much as blinked the wrong way. She was also a real menace with the ruler..." Marcus got lost in the memory, recounting a story about a whole group of the boys being caught up in the hall after curfew and the repercussion of it.

"We couldn't sit properly for a week I think... and we would have gotten our revenge if not for one thing. Nun Anastasia made the damn best hot chocolate in the world and she made sure we all got our share every weekend."

"Mhm... still not fair," Tomas mumbled, pointing to the fact Marcus was subjected to corporal punishment even though he didn't do anything wrong, or well, didn't get a chance.

"Yeah, that's life," Marcus said in a low tone and watched as Tomas eyes slipped closed, his head lulling a bit. This time his eyes didn't pop open and Marcus readily caught the mostly empty mug before it could slip from suddenly lax fingers. He put the mug away and both Marcus and Peter waited several minutes, unmoving and silent, just watching as Tomas's body sank into the bed, finally giving in to the exhaustion.

„Does Olivia know he's here?" Peter asked softly, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Marcus, hand on his partner's leg.

Marcus nodded and pulled the covers higher up to cover Tomas's shoulders, effectively tucking him in.

"Was the sleeping pill necessary? He was throwing up before... I don't want him drugged up."

Peter grimaced. Yeah, the situation wasn't ideal, but Tomas looked like he needed a break.

"It wasn't a strong pill and I gave him a small dose. He should be okay. I'm not sure it's even the pill that worked, he was out fast. Don't worry, love." Peter leaned over and put a kiss on Marcus's forehead, then let his head rest there, their foreheads touching.

„This is more than just nightmares, right?" he asked after a moment, pulling away.

„Much more," Marcus sighed and rubbed at his eyes wearily. „I don't know what's going on Peter... but if everything he said is true... there is trouble brewing and he will need all the help we can give. Probably more."

Peter nodded.

„All you have to do is ask. I'll help however I can."

„Thank you love."

„I'll go make us something to eat. Stay with him till then, okay?"

Marcus nodded. They both knew he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

For a while it looked like the sleeping pill did its work. Tomas was lying motionless in the bed, his breathing slow and easy. He didn't even stir when Marcus moved out of the bed, to change into something more comfortable and to eat the grilled cheese Peter brought him. Once he was sure that Tomas was indeed sleeping and getting some much needed rest, Marcus slipped out of the room and gave a quick call to Olivia to reassure her her kid brother was alright. Well, as alright as one could be when having to deal with all the things Tomas did. Marcus's mind was still reeling over the fact Tomas actually saw his nightmare, that the kid was witness to something so horrible.

With a sigh, Marcus leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, the only thing on his mind a loud, screaming question of 'Why? Why God did you allow that? What is your  _plan?'_

But as it was usual ever since Gabriel's passing, God didn't answer. Marcus felt a light caress of air on his cheek, but that wasn't God. That was Peter, standing next to him, bumping shoulders and a question in his eyes.

"Are you alright?" Peter asked softly and Marcus couldn't love him more than he did. There was so much emotion in the other man's eyes, so much compassion and will to fight, to protect. Marcus let out a weary sigh and gave his partner a soft smile in return.

"I am better than Tomas, that's for sure. Is he still sleeping?"

Peter nodded.

"He's getting a bit restless though. Not sure the pill stopped him from dreaming." Peter looked apologetic and Marcus shook his head.

"Maybe it's better that way. He can't keep running from dreams." Marcus pushed away from the wall. "But he doesn't have to deal with them alone."

Peter nodded, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a fond smile.

"Anything you want to spend the time?"

"I think I'll get some papers I need to grade. I have a feeling it'll be a long night... better use it well."

Several hours later, Marcus was lightly dozing on a chair, his long legs stretched out on the edge of the bed. There was a bunch of papers on the floor and several sketches. Peter was back in the bedroom, seeing as he still needed to get up for work the next morning. The house was silent, until suddenly it wasn't.

Tomas started moaning in his sleep and tossing around restlessly, the blanket tangling up around his feet just trapping him deeper inside the dream. He kicked, trying to get free, to run away from the unseen terror and in the process managed to dig his heel forcefully into Marcus's shin.

Marcus woke from his doze with a startle, taking a moment to realize what woke him and why he was sitting in a chair instead of his bed. For a second all he saw was a sweaty face of a boy, scrunched up in pain and fear and he was back in Mexico with Gabriel, back in England with Joseph and Ira and all the other people he kept vigil for during their worst hours. The boy on the bed moved though and the light shone on his face.

"Tomas," Marcus breathed out, running one hand over his face, trying to push back the sleep and his own nightmares. He leaned over and put a gentle hand on Tomas's arm, shaking it slightly. "Tomas, wake up. It's just a dream."

Tomas came to with a gasp and instinctively jerked away from the touch, scrambling back. Marcus raised both his hands, trying to look as unthreatening as possible.

"Hey, it's okay. It's me. You're safe." Marcus kept up the reassurances until Tomas's eyes cleared a bit and the boy relaxed, his face turning crimson.

"Sorry," Tomas muttered and shook his head. "I thought... I thought you're someone else."

"Anyone I know?" Marcus asked, already feeling anger towards whomever was the cause of such fear.

"No... I don't think so," Tomas frowned, just the idea that Marcus could know father Simon, a man filled with so much darkness, made his skin crawl. He shuddered and Marcus seemed to note, because he grabbed the blanket that was crumpled at the foot of the bed and pulled it up, throwing it over Tomas's legs. The boy looked at him with something between surprise and incredulity and Marcus wished he could've taken a photo, because in that moment Tomas looked just like any other teenager doubting the sanity of their elders.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?" Tomas hedged, his fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. Marcus shrugged.

"The nightmare. Or any of the things you said before. We will eventually have to talk about those."

Tomas worried at his bottom lip, thinking through what he should say and what not.

"Maybe I shouldn't have said any of those things." Tomas looked away, hoping that Marcus would just forget and keep pretending everything was normal, that he wasn't just some freak. But Marcus obviously had enough. He reached out, cupping Tomas's chin in his hand and making sure he had his undivided attention.

"I think it's high time to stop playing around, Tomas. This... whatever is happening is clearly hurting you. I want to help you... I  _know_  I can help you, but first I need to know what's really going on."

Tomas looked into the blue eyes and seemed to come to a decision. After all, the cat was already out of the bag. Marcus was an exorcist, he said so himself. If he wanted to ask the question, there was no better person.

"Do you think I... might be possessed?" Tomas asked in a shaky voice. Even though he knew the answer already, he needed confirmation. Marcus resolutely shook his head and his own voice cracked.

„No, Tomas. I've seen my fair share of possessed people and trust me, you're not one of them."

Tomas let out a shaky breath.

„What about the voices? The shadows?"

„I don't know," Marcus admitted. „You haven't told me much about them. Why don't we start with that?"

Tomas nodded then licked his dry lips. Marcus noticed the gesture and poured him a glass of water from the jug Peter had brought before going to bed. Tomas took the glass thankfully sipping the water, looking for all the world like someone who'd rather be somewhere else. Marcus gave him a moment to put his thoughts together but when Tomas didn't start talking, Marcus decided he would have to make the first step.

"Do you hear voices all the time?"

Tomas gave a small shake of his head.

„No, just... during the fits. Or when I am too close to someone with the shadow."

„What are they saying?"

„I mostly don't understand. It's just... taunting, whispering... feels like they're scratching at the back of my head, trying to get in," Tomas grimaced, his free hand reaching at the back of his neck but pausing mid air and falling back into his lap. Marcus reached out, putting his own hand at the nape of Tomas's neck, running it soothingly up and down and he was relieved when Tomas leaned into the touch instead of jerking away in fear.

"Do you hear them now?"

"No," Tomas quickly shook his head. "Not in this house, not when you're around. Except..." Tomas frowned, his face paling a bit.

"Except what?"

Tomas bit his lip, his whole body trembling and Marcus could see he was working himself up, his eyes lost in the distance.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm here," Marcus said, moving to sit on the bed next to Tomas, one arm looped around his shoulder, rubbing it gently. "Talk to me, Tomas. When did you hear the voices?"

"At school... Friday."

"During the fit?"

"It... it isn't a fit, I don't think so. Not anymore."

Marcus nodded slightly. He also didn't think what was happening to Tomas were seizures. More like visions, but he wanted Tomas to try and explain it himself first, before jumping to conclusions.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because... I remember the things I see and... after Gabriel-" Tomas swallowed, his body shaking harder and Marcus pulled him close, dragging the blanket a bit higher. "I saw it. I saw what happened on the news and it was all real... those nightmares, those terrible things." Tomas sobbed, burying his head in Marcus shoulder. "All the blood Marcus... there was a boy... not much older than me and they killed him with a knife, cut his throat and ripped his heart out of his chest as if it was a piece of meat..."

Marcus blanched at the description, because he also saw it on the news, the massacre of several families all at once. Just the thought of Tomas witnessing it firsthand made him sick to his stomach. No wonder the boy looked like he hasn't eaten in weeks... if he was having flashbacks to those murders, he probably couldn't keep anything down.

"Oh Tomas," Marcus sighed and put a light kiss on top of that dark mop of hair as Tomas clung to him. "I'm so sorry." Marcus whispered. "Sorry that you have to see those things, sorry that you had to go so long without being able to tell anyone," he explained when Tomas looked at him with confusion.

"Not your fault," Tomas muttered and it was clear he was trying to pull himself together. He didn't want pity, especially not from Marcus.

"Can you tell me a bit more? About the things you've seen?"

Tomas fidgeted in Marcus's arms a bit.

"Maybe a bit... later? I... I really don't want to think about them right now."

Marcus nodded, although he knew that time might be of essence, but he couldn't pressure the kid, not when he was barely holding it together as it was. Tomas must've read his thoughts however, because he straightened a bit and pulled away.

"I can show you," he explained softly and looked around the room, but came up empty. "Where's my bag?" he asked a bit nervously.

"I think it's downstairs."

"Oh. I... there's a notebook. When I figured out it might all... be true... I wrote everything down."

"What do you mean everything?" Marcus frowned. "Every vision you had?"

This time it was Tomas who frowned.

"Is that what this is? Visions?"

Marcus grimaced but then nodded.

"I think so. As good a name for it as any."

Tomas thought about it then gave a small nod.

„Yeah, I suppose." He lay back down a bit reluctantly, but didn't protest when Marcus looped an arm around him once again. It seemed like contact was helping him stay calm at least.

"I'll take a look at the notebook a bit later then we can talk about what's in it. Sounds okay to you?" Marcus asked, getting a shrug in reply.

"Do you want to go back to sleep?"

"No." Tomas's answer came quickly. "Can we just... stay awake for a bit?"

Marcus bit back a yawn and nodded.

"Of course. But if we won't keep talking, I might fall asleep on you pretty soon," he warned. Tomas looked ready to apologize once again, but Marcus continued.

"We don't have to talk about the visions right now. But I'd like to know more about those shadows you kept mentioning."

Tomas shuddered a bit.

"It's more like... inky darkness," he started and his voice was so soft Marcus had to strain his hearing. "It's sitting on the shoulders of some people. When they come close, I can hear the darkness whispering... can see the words like tendrils, reaching into people's ears... infecting them with anger and fear."

Marcus felt a chill come over him as he listened to Tomas's description of a demon and he subconsciously pulled him closer, trying to keep him safe from the images his own mind was portraying.

"How often do you see them?" he managed to choke out through tight throat.

Tomas didn't answer the question, as if he was too lost in his own mind.

"I used to see them in Mexico too, but... there were less of them. Or I wasn't really looking, I don't know." Tomas shrugged a bit and Marcus was dismayed at how normal his voice was. It sounded as if the kid was used to the demons being part of his life now and it was a scary thought indeed.

"It's different here, in Chicago. There's... too many of them and they look stronger... bigger."

"Do they-" Marcus had to wet hit lips, wishing for the glass of water but unwilling to relinquish his position. He cleared his throat. "Do they see you too?"

There was silence and then Tomas hesitantly spoke.

"I don't know. Sometimes... sometimes I think they can," he whispered. "Sometimes they try to talk to me too."

And if that wasn't a thought that scared the hell out of Marcus.

"What are they trying to tell you?" he asked, unsure if he really wanted an answer.

"They're just taunting me... saying things that hurt." Tomas shrugged. "I stopped listening to them a long time ago."

"Good, that's good," Marcus rubbed Tomas's shoulder, as much for his own comfort as for the kid's. "Never listen to a demon, Tomas. They always lie."

Tomas didn't say anything to that.

"They do, Tomas. They may try to wrap the lies in a bit of a truth, but it is still a lie. They just want to play at your fears, insecurities and they'll use anything to get inside. Trust me, I know this." Marcus said emphatically, wanting to make sure Tomas knew. Just the idea of the kid believing some of the things the demons could say and drag up was terrifying to Marcus.

"Don't worry, I don't let them speak that long," Tomas said, obviously trying to calm Marcus down. He would've snorted at the irony but the words made him frown.

"How do you mean?"

"I push them away. Those people usually leave, before they come too close."

"Push them away? How?" Marcus thought in wonder.

"I just do. They don't like it, so they leave. I... sometimes I get the fits later. I think... it's their revenge."

The last thing wasn't encouraging at all. It opened a can of worms with thoughts about who was giving Tomas the visions at all and why. But there were other questions running through Marcus's head as well.

Was there maybe a way to get rid of the demons before they could possess the person? Before they could integrate? With Tomas's talent of seeing them, an exorcist could do so much more, skip all the time needed for research and gathering evidence...

Marcus suddenly stopped his train of thoughts, his face blushing a bit in shame when he realized what he was doing. He thought of how to use Tomas's gift... and he was disgusted with himself. How could he even entertain the thought? Shaking his head and already asking God for forgiveness, he pushed those thoughts away.

Some of them might've appeared on his face though, seeing as Tomas was looking up at him a bit warily. His eyes were red rimmed and he looked in serious need of more sleep and food, but Marcus knew it wouldn't be easy to convince him of either.

„Don't ever trust them, Tomas. Whatever those things say, don't let them in." Marcus said and Tomas put his head down with a weary sigh that belied his youth.

"I'm trying to keep them away, but it's getting so much harder. I'm just... so tired all the time."

Marcus felt for him, he really did. He knew the weariness, fought it for over a year after Gabriel died... fought it at the boys' home before the church bought him like a piece of meat and God saved him from the fate of the forgotten. He didn't want the same for Tomas.

"You want to try and get some rest?" he asked softly, seeing that Tomas's eyes were already slipping closed, but the boy shook his head, unwilling to get lost in nightmares again.

"No, please."

Marcus ruffled the dark hair with a sigh of his own.

"Okay, a bit longer then."

Marcus thought about all that Tomas said, about his reaction at the school.

"Tomas?" he asked after a moment, unsure if the boy hasn't fallen asleep after all.

"Mhm?"

"You say you see the shadows on strangers... did you... did you ever see it on someone you knew? Are there any such people at school?"

Tomas stiffened a bit.

"We used to have a neighbor... back when I was small. He was... he was not a good man, but no one else knew. I saw the shadow on his shoulder; saw it getting darker and bigger each day, until... until he did something really bad."

Marcus didn't dare to interrupt, but he felt fear and rage crawl in his gut.

"Did he hurt you?"

Tomas looked up, surprised to hear the worry and the rage on his behalf.

"No... I kept far away from him. He hurt his girlfriend I think. I don't remember the details, just that one day the police came and took him away. The girlfriend... her colors changed. She was never the same again." There was regret and guilt mixing in his voice and Marcus felt sorry for the girl but felt relief upon learning Tomas wasn't hurt.

"What do you mean by colors? Did she have a shadow too?" Marcus was getting a bit confused. Tomas nervously fidgeted on the bed, as if trying to decide whether he should continue or not.

"Tomas?" Marcus nudged him gently. "I think you mentioned something about colors earlier, in the car. Are they part of your visions?"

Tomas bit his lip.

"No. I... I see the colors all the time. It's... normal." Tomas shrugged. "At least I thought so as a kid. Then Abuela told me normal people don't see them, so I knew I was a freak."

"Stop it. What did I say about that word?"

"Not to use it," Tomas rolled his eyes.

"I doubt your Abuela would've called you a freak."

"No, of course not. She wasn't like that," Tomas quickly protested, seeming offended even just by the idea. Though his answer hinted that other people weren't so judicious. After all, Tomas must've heard that word somewhere plenty of times to get it so fixated.

"Can you explain those colors to me?"

„Everyone has a color. Most are light or neutral... some are dull, some dark. They show who the person is..." Tomas worried at the edge of the blanket then looked at Marcus. „They help me judge the person's mood, help me stay away from bad people."

Marcus took that information in, somehow in awe. He heard of people who could see auras, but he put it down as a scam. This was the first time he was inclined to believe someone.

"I know you have doubts," Tomas said a bit sheepishly, though the corner of his lips lifted in a smile. "Your colors start swirling. It's... okay. You don't have to believe me. I don't mind the colors at all."

Marcus shook his head quickly, wanting to make sure Tomas listened to him.

"No, I'm just... taking it all in."

"So... you don't think I'm a liar then?" Tomas raised an eyebrow and now it was Marcus who felt like under a microscope.

Tomas frowned a bit then there was a look of surprise on his face. "You don't."

"Of course I don't," Marcus replied a bit snappishly. He was just starting to think what this all meant, what was it supposed to mean and oh dear God how should he even deal with someone who was as good as a lie detector? But then there was another thought that struck him as lightning and Marcus froze. Tomas sensed the change of mood and tensed as well.

"What's wrong?" the boy asked quietly and Marcus had to force himself to relax, to think this through.

"What... what about me, Tomas? Do you see something... dark on me?" he finally asked, his voice croaky, throat too dry. He expected Tomas to give him a deep look and maybe pull away. Instead there was a genuine smile on the boy's face and his hand reached for Marcus's own, tracing the line of the tattoo on his wrist.

"Most people are just grey or light," Tomas spoke, his trailing finger pausing at the bracelet Marcus wore, the one with the medal. "You... you're shining..." Tomas swallowed then looked into Marcus's eyes. "...as if God himself touched you."

Marcus didn't know what to say. For a moment he wasn't sure he knew how to breathe, his eyes locked with the warm brown of Tomas. There was no hint of a lie in them, only truth and something akin to adoration. It scared the hell out of Marcus.

"That's why I wasn't afraid of you when we first met. I... I thought I'll go blind for a second," Tomas chuckled, remembering wishing he could wear sunglasses in the class. "That's what makes me feel safe here. The shadows... they don't like your light."

"Oh." Marcus was still struggling to find the right words, to get a handle on the sudden swell of emotions. Because here was a boy seeing demons, yet he didn't see the stain on his soul caused by one. All he saw was God's touch... and Marcus wondered if Tomas saw that, could God still be with him? Didn't he lose him forever after Gabriel?

It was all too much to take in and Marcus wanted to go down to the kitchen, get a stiff drink and think... or just cuddle next to Peter and try to make sense of all of it. But Tomas was still looking at him, now with some sadness and a level of distance and Marcus realized the boy was expecting him to leave, to just get up and leave him in the room alone with his own nightmares and demons. Well, Marcus wasn't about to do that. He cleared his throat and moved a pillow behind his back to a more comfortable position.

"Thank you," Marcus said and gave Tomas a small smile. "I think I needed to hear that."

Tomas looked a bit surprised at the answer and the fact Marcus was still there, by his side and Marcus felt a pang of anger at all the people who dared to abandon this boy.

„I'm not leaving, Tomas," he spoke and made sure Tomas was looking at him. "You're not alone in this and we will figure it out. Together. Yes?"

Tomas's face at first showed doubt and disbelief, but he must've sensed that Marcus meant every word, because his eyes softened and he gave an accepting nod, his lips turning up in a grateful smile.

"Thank you," he whispered even as he lay back down. He finally felt safe enough to go back to sleep.

'No need to thank me kid,' Marcus thought even as he absentmindedly ran his fingers over Tomas's scalp to help him relax. 'I don't know how much help I can be, but I'll do everything in my power, I promise.'


	10. Chapter 10

Peter woke up to the feeling of something missing and as he moved his arm, he realized the missing thing was Marcus. His absence also explained the restless night Peter had. While they were living together only a year, Peter got so used to Marcus always being there, long arms usually wrapped around his middle in the morning, head pushed against Peter's shoulder or neck, that waking up to a cold pillow next to him was a bit disturbing. It was barely past six am and Peter wondered if Marcus spent all night on the chair and if Tomas managed to get some sleep. He got up and quietly walked towards the guest room, not wanting to wake up either of its occupants in case they were actually sleeping.

The door to the room was slightly open and in the early morning light coming from the outside Peter noted right away that the chair was empty. His eyes fell on the bed and its sole occupant, who he seemed to be deep asleep, curled up under a blanket. Peter gave the room a once over, noting the empty jug on the bedside table as well as the extra pillow bunched up at the head of the bed. It seemed that Tomas had a difficult night. With a grimace, Peter slowly backed out of the room and headed down to the kitchen. Just as he thought, Marcus was sitting at the table, a cup of coffee cooling within reach. There was a deep frown etched into his face as he was reading through some journal.

Peter walked up to him and slipped his arms around his shoulders, planting a kiss at the top of his head.

"Hey sunshine. Did you get any sleep last night?"

Marcus leaned back into the embrace, turning his face for another kiss then pulling back with a sigh.

"Based on the circles under your eyes I'd say no," Peter drily stated.

"Maybe an hour or two," Marcus admitted. "There was a lot on my mind."

"You could've came back to bed after Tomas fell asleep," Peter chided him a little, but Marcus shook his head.

"He had nightmares, I couldn't leave him alone. I came down just a while ago."

"Well, he's asleep now, I checked. If you want to go lie down, I can keep an eye on him until I go to work."

Marcus shook his head.

"I can't. Not after this." He nodded towards the journal he was previously reading and Peter squinted, trying to decipher the writing. The page that was open had several Latin words scribbled all across the edges, a crude drawing of something looking like an urn and an eye with two pupils. Peter cringed, not knowing what it was supposed to mean, but feeling it was nothing good.

"What is it?"

"Tomas's visions. All he could remember of them..." Marcus listed through the journal and Peter was dismayed to find all the pages filled up in small writing, Spanish, Latin and English fighting for attention between drawings of violent scenes. "I don't know how far back they date..." Marcus shook his head, eyes filled with concern and something approaching horror. As Peter caught sight of an extremely gruesome drawing of an open human chest, he could relate to that.

"That's... disturbing." Peter took the journal and started looking through the pages, trying to understand at least some of the text, all the while wondering if they weren't making a mistake. Maybe Tomas indeed suffered from some psychological illness... he had seen similar drawings while visiting a friend at Bethesda, on the psych ward. Marcus seemed to sense the direction of his thoughts and plucked the journal out of his hands, giving Peter a surprisingly strong glare.

"Don't you even try hinting it Peter. This... this is not some mental illness," Marcus slammed the notebook down on the table, opening it on the page with the drawing of the human chest.

"See this? It's the description of a murder scene, step by step."

"You're not making it sound any better, Marcus," Peter protested and Marcus nodded, grabbing an old newspaper that was lying by his coffee mug. Peter didn't notice it until now, but Marcus made sure he saw the main article on the front pages.

"It's this, Peter. The murder of those four families. That happened about two weeks ago."

Marcus was right. Peter quickly read through the article and then went through the scribbled notes. There was much more detail in Tomas's notes... a disturbing amount of detail actually that wasn't released to the press.

"Is it possible he saw the news and just... has a really active imagination?"

Marcus looked at him wearily as if expecting that question.

"Anything is possible, until we find out if the details fit. But, Peter... there are other things he couldn't have known."

And as Peter looked at Marcus's haunted face, he knew those things were scaring him much more than the drawings filled with death. Peter let out a sigh and rubbed at his eyes.

"Okay, I think I'll need coffee for this." He poured himself a cup from the batch Marcus made and sit down next to him.

"Now tell me what makes you so sure about this vision thing." Maybe if it had been said in a different tone, Marcus would have bristled and gotten angry on Tomas's behalf, of being doubted by a man he was in love with. But Peter's tone was open and supporting, curious. He was the voice of reason, a calming presence Marcus so needed. So instead of getting angry, Marcus gave his partner a weary smile and listed to the page filled with Latin and the drawing of the eye.

"This here is the sign of an integrated demon. There's no way back from integration, but the church tries to keep that information under wrap. Tomas couldn't have read about the pupil anywhere, outside of some horror novels. I know..." Marcus raised a hand to stop Peter's automatic reply. "You think that's exactly where he could have come up with the pictures too. The problem is here..."

"What is  _Vocare Pulvere?"_  Peter read out loud the Latin that was filling the edges, the two words repeated again and again in a frantic way.

"The translation would be  _'ash summoning'_. It's an old ritual of summoning evil into this world." Marcus paused then nodded towards the old newspaper with the article about the mass murder in the local neighborhood, where people were seemingly harvested for organs. "To do that, you need to get the kidneys, heart, soles of the feet and several other organs of a victim and burn them to ash."

Marcus fell silent for a moment then turned the page that was written in Spanish, the handwriting shaky and blotched, a sure sign that the hand holding the pen was anything but steady.

"He's describing the whole process, Peter. There's... there's no way he could've known that." Marcus shook his head and the fear was back in his eyes. "This journal is filled with a dozen of other visions, of murder and things no kid should  _ever_ witness. My god, I'm surprised Tomas wasn't locked up in a loony bin after his first vision. This... this is terrible."

Now it was Marcus who was shaking and Peter automatically reached out and pulled him into an embrace, trying to will the fear and worry away.

"Something's coming, Peter. Something's coming and Tomas is right in the middle of it, and I'm not sure we can protect him," Marcus choked out.

"Well, we will sure as hell try," Peter said, trying to push his own apprehension away. He hoped they didn't bite off something bigger than they could chew, but it was past the time to turn back. Marcus has already bonded with the kid and Peter wasn't willing to let him get hurt either. It looked like they would have to fight whatever was coming.

"He will need our help," Marcus said, leaning their heads together, thankful that Peter didn't say no.

"It's a good thing then that he has a soldier and an exorcist on his side, huh?"

The corner of Marcus's mouth turned up in a smile and his eyes glinted.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love you?"

Peter frowned in mock puzzlement.

"I don't seem to recall any such moment. Maybe you should remind me?"

"Such a tease," Marcus laughed then planted a warm kiss on Peter's mouth. "I love you," he said when they separated to take a breath.

"I love you too," Peter said with an equally dopey smile and for a moment all was well with the world. Until Peter leaned back and his eyes landed on the journal. Marcus followed his gaze and the smile slipped from his face, replaced by the worry of earlier.

"What now?" Peter asked, knowing there will already be some plan brewing in Marcus's mind, or at least a start of one.

"First we need to find out how much of this is true," Marcus tapped his fingers on the journal. "The case with those four families shouldn't be that hard, but we need to be careful and not to draw any attention to us or Tomas. He's in enough danger already as it is."

Peter wanted to ask what danger, but his mind was already running through a list of names he could contact.

"I think I can call a person or two and find out a bit more details about those murders. At least one other detail that wasn't mentioned in the news. I assume you're just trying to make sure that Tomas's visions are real, yeah?"

"I'm pretty sure they are, but evidence is always good."

"Anything we can do to actually bring those responsible to justice?"

Marcus was silent for a moment, thinking. His priority was Tomas and to keep him safe. He wasn't sure if their ways connected thanks to some elaborate plan of God or what even was the ultimate goal, but at this point Marcus didn't care. God was done speaking to him it seemed, yet he pushed this boy into his arms. Marcus would do anything to protect him and not to let him befall Gabriel's fate. If he could stop some other people from being harmed, that was good too.

"We will see what we find out," Marcus conceded and Peter nodded. He wasn't really keen on poking into a hornet's nest and so far it looked like they were doing just that.

"What is the goal of those demons anyway? What do they need the ritual for if they can just possess anyone?"

"Not anyone, actually," Marcus said with a sigh. "And it takes lots of work with no sure result. There's another vision Tomas described... about the ritual and where it was used." Marcus swallowed and handed Peter the journal open on the page. Peter read through it, frowning and feeling decidedly sicker by the end.

"My god. Children... they're targeting kids of influential people?"

"They are working on a long game, Peter. This is no quick warfare. They want to plant the seeds, wait and manipulate for  _years."_

"But for what? What do they hope to accomplish?"

Marcus sighed and rubbed at his tired eyes.

"I don't know and I'm not sure I want to, but we must do something. Sooner or later they'll find out about Tomas and his 'gift' and once they do, he'll be too dangerous for them to be left alive."

Peter squeezed Marcus's shoulder in silent support.

"We won't let that happen."

Marcus looked up and gave him a grateful smile that was broken up by a barely stifled yawn.

"What is your plan for today?" Peter asked, shooting a look out the window at the rising sun.

"I think I need to call up an old friend of mine and try to find out more about father Simon. I have a bad feeling about him."

"So you want to play detective during work hours?"

"I'll call in sick today," Marcus said and got a surprised look from Peter. As far as Peter knew, Marcus had never in his life 'called in sick', whatever job he was doing. "I'm fine," Marcus rolled his eyes as if reading his thoughts.

"I want to check out some of the other things that are mentioned in the journal as well. I need to go over them with Tomas..."

"Are you calling in sick for him too?" Peter asked with a small smile and Marcus shrugged.

"I already spoke to Olivia. Told her the kid needs a bit more sleep. She didn't seem to mind, as long as he calls her as soon as he wakes."

"Tomas is not the only one who can use some extra sleep," Peter noted and grabbed Marcus's coffee cup out of his hand. Marcus glared at him, but didn't protest.

"I'm actually thinking of getting an hour or two. You aren't leaving until nine, yeah?"

"A little bit earlier, but yeah. Go on up, I'll hold down the fort and wake you up before I leave."

"What would I do without you?" Marcus asked with a gentle smile and Peter shrugged, pouring Marcus's cold coffee down the drain.

"Probably overdose on caffeine," he said with a smug look. Marcus wanted to retort something, possibly that it wouldn't be such a bad way to go, but it got lost in a huge yawn. So he gave Peter a small wave and headed for bed, hoping he would be able to catch up on some sleep.

* * *

There was someone in his room and it wasn't Olivia. Tomas could tell; despite the fact his eyes were still closed. He always recognized Olivia even in total darkness. It was partly the smell of her shampoo and the gentle perfume she sometimes used, but also the feeling of warmth when she was close enough. No, the person in the room with him was definitely male. For a second Tomas froze, his breathing hitching, goose bumps running down his back in anticipation of some threat. But nothing came and as Tomas slowly let out a breath and carefully peeled open one eye, he noted that whoever was there had left. He also realized that the bed he was lying on wasn't his own.

Blinking, Tomas frowned into the semi darkness of the room, seeing the curtains were drawn but it was already light outside. That's when the events of the last day came back to him and the sleepy confusion was replaced by gut churning panic.

Tomas groaned, running both hands over his face, recounting the talk with Marcus, his breakdown and the tears. What was worse than the feeling of utter shame over crying in front of not only Marcus but also Peter was the realization that he told Marcus everything. And now he was alone in the room and already terrified at the prospect that there would be a knock on the door and some orderlies would whisk him away to a mental hospital. Was that them, checking in just a minute earlier? Or was it Marcus, making sure he was still asleep?

Tomas bit back a moan of utter shame, wanting nothing more than to burrow back under the blankets and sleep until the end of the world. He might've done just that, but the thought of sleep was still scaring him. Nightmares were never far these days. Not to mention he needed to use the bathroom and get something to drink. He felt parched and sticky with sweat at the same time. The need to feel cool water on his face and lips overcame the possible shame of having to face Marcus or Peter. Tomas slowly got out of the bed, pausing momentarily as the world seemed to tilt. He swallowed then stood up. This feeling of lightheadedness wasn't new... he had to battle it several times the last week. Tomas didn't know if it was the lack of proper sleep or the fact he barely kept anything down. His stomach churned in protest, hungry and sick at the same time and Tomas tried to calm it down with a promise of some water.

Shuffling towards the bathroom, Tomas paused in front of the bedroom. He was tempted to look in, to make sure Marcus was there, but he didn't dare. Shaking his head Tomas continued to the bathroom.

The sip of water from the running tap and the cold wetness on his face helped Tomas to wake up a bit more. The look into the mirror made him cringe however. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot, as if he spent a long time crying or didn't get to sleep for a while, even though Tomas had to admit that those few hours of sleep he got tonight were the best he had in the last week. Still, he hoped he would get rid of the raccoon eyes before he had to face Olivia. She was already worried sick about him, he knew.

With a sigh, knowing that there was nothing he could do about his appearance without some serious make up or magic involved, Tomas gave up the attempt to look presentable. He left the bathroom and headed down to the kitchen. Maybe Marcus was there, waiting for a proper explanation or discussing with Peter how best to let him know he wasn't welcome at their home anymore.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Tomas realized these thoughts were ridiculous. He remembered the look on Marcus's face when he told him about the shadows and everything and the man truly believed him. But that still didn't mean he wouldn't change his mind about sticking close to Tomas. Maybe this was too much trouble and Tomas knew he was hardly worth it.

He walked down the stairs and into the kitchen with an air of pretended acceptance, all the while trying to convince himself it wasn't a big deal, that he would just have to deal with it alone, like he always did.

Tomas could tell someone was in the kitchen by the smell of food and the clicking of the keyboard. Frowning a bit at the strange combination, Tomas slowly peeked from around the corner. He was surprised to see Peter there instead of Marcus. He was about to take a step back and retreat, unsure of whether he was welcome or not, when the floorboard under his foot creaked.

"Hey, what are you doing up so early?" Peter asked, looking up from behind the laptop and Tomas paused.

"Uh... what's the time?" he asked a bit uncertainly, frozen in the doorway.

"Quarter to seven," Peter said and closed down the laptop, giving Tomas a scrutinizing look. "How are you feeling?"

Tomas felt himself blush at the question, not really enjoying the attention. He cleared his throat and shuffled from feet to feet.

"Okay. I... uh... I need to go to school."

Peter just raised a doubtful eyebrow.

"I'd say you could use a bit more sleep... or food. Are you hungry?"

Tomas bit at his lower lip. It was a tricky question. His stomach was hungry, but he wasn't sure he could keep anything down. In the end he just shrugged. Peter seemed to understand his dilemma, because he nodded.

"Why don't you sit down? I'll make you some toast and tea... it might settle your stomach if you don't feel well."

"I'm fine," Tomas quickly said and took a reluctant step inside the kitchen. "You don't have to bother-"

"Nonsense. Sit. Olivia would have our heads if we let you starve," Peter said with a smile even as he put on the kettle and flopped some bread into the toaster. Tomas sit at the table, careful not to dislodge several papers and notes that were scattered on the desk... until his eyes caught something familiar and he blinked.

Right next to Peter's laptop lie his journal, opened at the page describing one of his older dreams. Tomas was still a bit leery to call them visions, but he pushed back the thought as unimportant. What was important was the fact Peter had obviously read his journal... the one with the description of all the gruesome deaths. Tomas paled, his breath caught somewhere mid way. Maybe he made some sound or Peter had just well honed instincts because he turned around with a frown on his face.

"Tomas?" he asked, worry clear in his voice and Tomas forced himself to look up, eyes huge with fear.

"What's wrong?" Peter didn't understand the sudden panic but he caught Tomas's look towards his journal and a slight curse escaped his lips. He crossed the distance between them, picking the journal up and closing it, handing it back to Tomas. Tomas grabbed it, his hands shaking slightly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't... I didn't read it all, I couldn't even if I wanted to," Peter said, sitting down so he was face to face with Tomas instead of towering over him.

Tomas appreciated the gesture, but the feeling he would get sick didn't vanish, even though Peter wasn't looking at him as if he was crazy. Not yet anyway. Maybe just a bit worried that he would topple over or get one of his seizures. Tomas clutched the journal in his hands and cleared his throat, suddenly unable to look at Peter. He could see the swirl of his colors and so far it was only worry, no disgust or fear, but Tomas knew it would come soon. It had to, after what he saw in that journal.

"Hey, you okay? Should I get Marcus?" Peter reached out and put a gentle hand on Tomas's shoulder. It took all of Tomas's will not to pull away. It wasn't like he was afraid of Peter, he knew the man wouldn't harm him. But he felt he didn't deserve the kindness at the moment.

"I'm fine," Tomas managed to croak out, licking at dry lips. He wished Marcus was there but at the same time didn't want to bother the man. It was ridiculous but he was worried about his reaction, even though he clearly remembered Marcus staying with him after he spilled his guts about everything and there was no judgment there.

The kettle whistled and Tomas almost jumped out of his skin. Peter just gave his shoulder a squeeze and got up to make the tea and the toast. He also poured a glass of cold water and the moment he put it down, Tomas grabbed the glass as if he haven't had a drink for ages. Peter just raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. Instead he sat back down and waited until Tomas finished the glass, then he pushed the plate with the toast in front of him.

"Eat if you can."

Tomas hesitantly picked up a toast and started nibbling on it, not really feeling all that hungry, especially with Peter's eyes on him.

There was a moment of awkward silence and it was Tomas who broke it first.

"Did Marcus tell you?" Tomas blurted out suddenly, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. He just needed to know what Peter thought... what he could expect from Marcus.

"You might need to be a little more specific, Tomas. Marcus tells me lots of things, some I don't even want to know," Peter tried to ease the mood a bit with a smile, but Tomas was too tense for that.

"About the visions," Tomas hesitated at the last word, but thought what the hell. Either Peter will get scared off right away or not. There was no sense in prolonging things. "About what I can see... all the death." Tomas nodded towards the journal that lie closed in his grip.

Peter looked him straight in the eyes and without a blink nodded.

"Yes, he did."

Tomas's face fell. He thought Marcus could keep a secret. He thought Marcus could be trusted.

"Why?" he whispered and even though the question obviously wasn't aimed at Peter, the older man decided to answer.

"Because he's my partner. Because we have no secrets... and he needed my help."

Tomas blinked, the hurt look changing into one of confusion.

"Help? Help with what?"

"You," Peter answered gently.

Tomas jerked, his head full with thoughts about being called a freak, about getting sent away though who knows where they would even send him. He felt himself panicking again but Peter quickly shook his head, understanding in his eyes.

"No... I said it wrong. Marcus needs my help so we can protect you. And to figure out what this is all about. Those... visions." Peter nodded towards his computer. "I was trying to look up news about cases similar to what you mentioned in your journal... at least the parts that weren't in Latin or Spanish. Maybe... maybe if we find a pattern or can connect the visions to real cases... maybe we'll figure out what to do next."

Tomas stared at him, speechless.

"You... you  _believe me?_ " he finally asked, once again taken aback by the generosity of those two men.

Peter sighed and nervously ran a hand through his short hair.

"To be frank, when Marcus told me, I had my doubts," Peter admitted, feeling it would be counterproductive to lie to Tomas. Especially if what Marcus told him about the kid being able to read people was true.

"But you believe me now," Tomas said, his voice expressing his own disbelief and surprise over the situation. Yet what he said wasn't a question but a statement and Peter couldn't but nod.

"I do."

"Why?"

Indeed, why. Peter couldn't really say it was just gut feeling or the fact he trusted Marcus without doubt. None of those arguments would appease the kid. So he went for facts.

"I found some details you shouldn't be privy to, yet you mentioned them in the journal."

"What details?"

_'The make of the knife used to kill those people? The description of the process of skinning the victims feet?'_ Those were the details that made Peter stick with toast instead of scrambled eggs for breakfast. Those were the details that Tomas shouldn't know, shouldn't even imagine. Peter still hoped those details were just a work of an overactive imagination, he would harbor that hope until his friend he called twenty minutes ago wouldn't bring him the file and the autopsy report of those victims. But those weren't words he wanted to share with Tomas who looked ready to crash back in a bed or face plant into his uneaten toast.

"Father Simon. Did you... have you met him before?"

Tomas frowned then shook his head.

"I think I saw him at my school a few days back," Tomas admitted, remembering only too well the visions that came from that encounter. "But no, I never met him in person."

Peter nodded and clicked on the keyboard of his laptop, bringing up a webpage then turning the laptop so that Tomas could see the screen.

"Is he there?" Peter asked and Tomas skimmed over the top of the webpage which had the title of the school... Catholic University of St. Lucia. His eyes fell down on the picture with a group of people. Without a second of hesitation, he pointed towards the face from his nightmares and swallowed.

"That's him," Tomas said and he looked at the face, feeling sudden hatred fill his heart. He didn't know why, he just knew the man in the picture would try to hurt him. Gritting his teeth, Tomas skimmed the rest of the people on the picture, somehow relieved that he didn't see any of the kids from his vision, though he caught sight of one student wearing the same uniform with the logo as he saw in the dreams. What was worse, on the side of the picture he also saw the photo of a familiar woman. Squinting, he pointed at her then looked at Peter.

"I saw her too... she was at our school with father Simon. Who... who is she?"

Peter didn't know, but he scrolled down the page and read the description under the photo.

"Maria Walters... she's one of the founders of the school. Interesting," Peter muttered and quickly wrote down the name on the piece of paper that was already filled with details from Tomas's journal. He had a nice list of people he could hand over to his friend for a proper background check. Even if it would cost him a favor, Peter thought it would be well worth it.

Satisfied that he had at least some basic plan, Peter relaxed back into the chair, trying not to look at Tomas as if he was the most puzzling thing found flushed out on the beach. By the way Tomas fidgeted on his seat, idly playing with the half eaten toast, Peter thought he failed spectacularly.

„Maybe when you finish ripping that toast to pieces, you should call Olivia," Peter spoke after a moment and Tomas looked up, startled, the toast falling from his fingers.

"Yeah, I... I think I'll call her." Tomas nodded and stood up, ready to go back to the guest room in search of his phone, when Peter's voice stopped him.

"Tomas."

"Yeah?" Tomas turned, a frown marring his face.

"Marcus called both of you in sick today. Olivia knows as well, so... relax. Talk to your sister, then go back to bed... get more sleep. You look like you still need it." Peter's words were gentle and Tomas wasn't sure what to say. On one hand, he wasn't very happy about someone else deciding what he should be doing or insinuating he was in no shape to go to school. On the other hand... Peter was right. He still felt for the lack of better word  _wonky_. Everything was just a bit unreal and Tomas wasn't sure if it was the lack of sleep or his mind trying to dissociate from the events of the last few days. Whatever the case, the idea of going back to bed and getting some rest sounded more than welcome. Maybe now that he put all the nightmares down on paper and showed them to Marcus, maybe now he wouldn't have to see them all the time.

Tomas's feet shuffled on the floor as he was hesitating to ask something that was on his mind. Peter just quirked up an eyebrow and gave a small incline of his head.

"What's bothering you, Tomas?" He asked and Tomas almost snorted. Where should he even start to answer that question?

"I... don't you want me to leave?" Tomas asked instead then cursed himself for being an idiot. Why would he ask the one question he was the most afraid to hear the answer for?

Even as he was internally reprimanding himself and trying to come up with an apology or a different question, Peter decided to answer this one.

"No... of course not! Why would you even ask?" he frowned and Tomas opened his mouth then clapped it closed.

"I just-" Tomas shrugged, pointing at himself reproachfully. "I'm too much trouble and I... I don't want to get Marcus into some danger."

"Well, I don't want Marcus to be in danger either," Peter agreed as he stepped up close to Tomas. He made sure the boy was looking at him though when he continued. "But I don't want you to be facing danger either, especially not alone."

Tomas's eyes widened a bit in surprise and Peter's heart twitched. There was such a look of hope in those brown eyes he swore he would do anything in his power not to crush it.

"We want to help you with this... whatever the outcome. You're not alone. Okay?"

Tomas gulped then gave a hesitant nod.

"Are you sure?" he asked in a choke voice.

"Yes," Peter replied with a smile and watched as Tomas's shoulders marginally relaxed.

"Thank you," the boy said and without warning he gave Peter a heartfelt hug. Peter blinked in surprise, then put a hand on Tomas's back and patted him gently.

Tomas pulled back, clearly embarrassed by the display of emotions, but there was still a smile playing on his lips.

"I... thanks."

"Okay, go call Olivia before she decides that we kidnapped you and calls the cops on us. Then get back to bed, before Marcus realizes you're awake and get's up too. The man needs his sleep or he'll be grumpy as hell."

Tomas grinned and with a nod headed up the stairs, pausing in the doorway just long enough to wish Peter a good day at work, then vanishing upstairs before Peter could answer.

Shaking his head and barely keeping in the chuckle at suddenly having not one but two people acting like teenagers under his roof, Peter returned back to the table and the open computer. Looking at the webpage of the school, the smile slipped from his lips. He didn't need special powers or visions to know that the smile on father Simon's face didn't bode well for them.


	11. Chapter 11

A week has passed since the day Tomas told Marcus everything. It was a week of peace, as if even God decided to finally let Tomas rest. He was hoping it wasn't the proverbial quiet before the storm, but Tomas was just grateful for getting a chance to breathe and get back some of his energy. He wondered how much difference did several nights of uninterrupted sleep make. For one, his appetite was back and even Olivia commented on his healthier look. It was a good thing too, because Tomas needed to be spending more time at Marcus's place and if he had at least good health to show for it, Olivia might relax a bit.

After that first day, which Tomas spent mostly sleeping or talking with Marcus about the things he wrote in the journal, Marcus and Peter tried to keep Tomas as far away from their little investigation as possible. Marcus resumed the lessons of Latin and except for an occasional enquiry of whether or not Tomas had a good night, there was no talk about demons, nightmares or visions. Tomas was grateful for that as well and enjoyed the time spent in study.

It was once again Friday and Tomas was in the living room of Peter's house, finishing up some of his homework while the guys were in the kitchen cooking dinner. At least he thought they were both cooking, even though he hoped Peter kept a closer eye on the food. Even in such short time, Tomas learned that there was one thing Marcus was abysmal at, and that was food preparation.

Tomas was lost in some math problem, biting at the end of his pencil in thought, when he heard a chuckle from the door.

"Dinner will be ready in five... but if you prefer, I have some charcoal in the next room," Marcus joked and Tomas looked up with a smirk.

"Depends. Who was in charge of cooking, you or Peter?"

Marcus gave him an offended look.

"I'm hurt at your insinuation of my lack of cooking skills."

"It's not insinuation if I had to drink a gallon of water afterwards to stop the burning," Tomas muttered under his breath, though there was still a playful smirk on his face. Marcus ruffled his hair and put some books on the table in front of him.

"Hm, here I am bringing gifts, and what do I get in return? Criticism. Really, today's youth..." He shook his head exaggeratedly and Tomas snorted, then sobered and looked at the books with interest.

"Presents?"

Marcus shrugged and sat down next to him on the couch, handing him the first book.

"Well, more like new study material, I suppose. Here."

Tomas looked at the title and his eyebrows went up.

"De exorcismis  _et supplicationibus quibusdam?"_

"Of Exorcisms and Certain Supplications,"Marcus added the translation.

Tomas opened the book and looked through the pages. It was all in Latin with no English translation, a bit over his knowledge base, but he figured that wasn't that important right now. He was pretty sure Marcus would help him with the translations. Still, there was a frown marring his face and Marcus seemed to catch on that.

„Hey, if you don't want to, it's okay. I thought-"

"No, I just..." Tomas shook his head, looking up with uncertainty. "Isn't this good just for actual priests?" Tomas looked like he expected Marcus to laugh off the question, but instead he got a look of serious consideration and a small nod.

"You're right. Exorcism shouldn't be performed by a layman. Major exorcism can be performed only by an ordained priest for several reasons. Some are right; some are just a way of the church to keep things under control. Point is..." Marcus shook his head a bit. "I'm not expecting you to go out and exorcise demons. You don't have the Church's approval for that and I don't think you'll get into a situation where you will gain it anytime soon. But things aren't as cut and clear as they seem... the Church wants everyone to believe that they are the ones holding God's power. While in truth... God chooses his own vessels. Whether they are part of the Church or not doesn't matter."

Tomas looked at Marcus, taking in his words and feeling a chill creep up his back. Was Marcus insinuating that God chose him? How could he even believe that? If anything, Tomas would've thought he was stained by something much darker. Why would God give him such horrible visions if he couldn't do anything to stop them? It didn't make any sense and as Tomas held the book he half expected God to struck him with lightning but nothing happened.

There was a sad little smile on Marcus's face and he put a hand on Tomas's shoulder.

"It's okay, Tomas. Don't over think it. For now, take it just as something that may broaden your horizons. No pressure."

Tomas nodded and carefully put the book aside.

"Thank you," he said politely, his mind still a bit stuck on the whole idea of God being the one causing him all this anguish. Marcus must've seen it on his face, because he cleared his throat and Tomas found another book in his hands, this one much more familiar.

"Oh, I already have this," he said, confused. It was the first play Marcus gave him and he still had the copy in his room. Marcus chuckled.

"Yes, but that one is used and full of my crappy drawings. I thought you might enjoy a brand new copy of your own instead."

"T-thanks," Tomas said, but he was even less enthusiastic about the present than he was about the last book and Marcus raised an eyebrow, giving Tomas's shoulder a small squeeze.

"Hey, what's the matter? I know most kids aren't that enthusiastic about books, but you seemed to like that one."

"It's not that," Tomas shook his head, trying to explain himself. The last thing he wanted was to offend Marcus or seem to be ungrateful. "I like the book very much... especially because it is used. I like your drawings."

"Oh." This time it was Marcus who looked surprised, almost stunned. He obviously wasn't all that used to someone complimenting his drawings, even though Tomas was sure Peter did it often. But Peter was something different. "I hope I wasn't drawing something kinky there," Marcus spoke, his voice a bit choked but also tinged with humor. Tomas chuckled.

"No, don't worry. Mostly just birds and trees. It's... it's hard to explain." Tomas threw up a hand, suddenly frustrated.

"Hey, no judgment from me. I'm happy you like my art. Keep the book, hell, I'll be happy to give you some of my drawings if it'll make you happy."

Tomas paused, the idea of having one of Marcus's drawings in his room sounding rather good. Marcus knew how to draw after all and Tomas often found himself drawn to the pictures all around the house. But a drawing on the wall couldn't be put under his pillow; he couldn't keep his hand on it all the time while he slept.

"I'd like to keep the book if it's no problem," he said a bit sheepishly. Marcus smiled.

"Of course. I'll keep this copy and maybe decorate the pages as well. So... you like birds and trees? Just so I know what to get you for your birthday," Marcus said then seeing the surprised look on Tomas's face quickly added: "Just joking. Don't worry. I'll get you something else." Marcus winked and Tomas let out a sigh, worrying at his bottom lip.

"I didn't explain it right, Marcus. I... I like your art, your drawings are very nice, but... it's something else." Tomas watched Marcus's face, trying to gain his thoughts and hoping he wasn't offended, but all he could discern was sudden intrigue and a slight nod nudging him to continue.

"Is there something special about the book?" Marcus asked, trying to figure out what was Tomas hinting at.

"Kind of," Tomas admitted. "You know how I told you about the colors around people?"

Marcus nodded a hint of worry appearing in his eyes but it vanished before Tomas could really notice it.

"Well, sometime things have colors too. Especially things that are dear to people. Like your drawings..." Tomas waved his hand in the direction of several drawings hanging on the wall. For Marcus, it was just black charcoal on white paper. For Tomas, every line was tinged with a hint of gold, accentuating the shadows. If he came close enough, he could almost feel the warmth seeping through.

"It's like when you draw, you are pouring some of your energy into the paper. And it stays there, even after you finish. I can... I can tell which drawings mean the most to you, because they are shining so bright." Tomas chanced a look at Marcus, hoping he wouldn't see ridicule or something worse, disbelief. He felt only relief when all he saw was awe. Swallowing, Tomas cast his eyes down towards his hands that were now idly playing with the pencil he didn't even remember grabbing.

"The book... it helps me sleep. It's not as bright or strong as some things here," Tomas's eyes landed on Marcus's hand and the bracelet with the medallion of St. Benedict. He had to squint when looking at that bracelet and Marcus seemed to catch his eyes, because there was a hand on his chin and Tomas found himself looking into Marcus's blue eyes.

"Tomas? You okay?" There was worry in the voice and Tomas thought maybe he spaced out a bit. Swallowing down the sudden lump in his throat, Tomas nodded.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for, kiddo. You were saying the book helped you sleep?"

Tomas nodded again, finding it a bit hard to form words. He suddenly felt like a small kid needing a comfort blanket and he didn't want Marcus to think less of him for that. But Marcus didn't seem to be disgusted, more interested than anything.

"How does it help?" he asked and there was true curiosity in his voice. "Tomas?"

"I don't want you to think I'm a baby or something," Tomas muttered and he heard a sigh, then felt Marcus's palm on his cheek.

"I would never think that, Tomas. With all that's going on, I'm absolutely stunned you're handling things as well as you are. I'm proud of you and nothing you say will change that."

Tomas looked at Marcus, the words causing something long forgotten to stir in his stomach. A warm feeling, one he hadn't felt ever since his Abuelita died. Not since last time she looked at him with eyes filled with love and pride over his school achievements. Tomas didn't know what to say, the look on Marcus's face making him suddenly too emotional. He took a deep breath and looked away, muttering a quiet 'gracias'.

"De nada," Marcus said with a smile then became serious again. "How does the book help you sleep, Tomas?" he repeated the question and Tomas found himself shrugging.

"It's full of your drawings," he said softly. "It shines and if I touch it, I can feel the warmth... it's like being close to you... to your energy. It just... it keeps the nightmares at bay. Not always, but... it makes it a bit easier to keep the shadows at bay. They don't like you."

Marcus chuckled a bit at the last part and Tomas chanced a small smile.

"I shall hope so," Marcus said with a smirk, then appeared to be thinking over something. "So... it's a bit like being in this house?"

Tomas nodded.

"Like taking a bit of you with me, I suppose," he said, then blushed. It didn't come out right. "The light... your light I meant. God's touch."

Frustrated, Tomas shook his head.

"Hey, relax. I think I know what you mean," Marcus said and Tomas could see he was playing with the bracelet on his arm, trying to take it off. Tomas frowned, wanting to ask what he was doing, but Marcus was quick and managed to untie the bracelet. He looked at it for a moment then looked at Tomas.

"Which arm do you prefer?" he asked simply and Tomas opened his mouth in surprise.

"But... that's yours," he said stupidly.

"Yes, and now I'm giving it to you. You said things that have meaning shine the strongest. Does... will this work for you?" Marcus looked suddenly a bit uncertain.

"Yes, but... I can't take that. If it means so much to you, I can't..."

"Tomas, it means so much to me, because I had it for the longest time. It's a medallion with St. Benedict; it's for protection from evil. I think you can use it more than I."

Tomas was still speechless even though he moved his left arm feebly towards Marcus, allowing him to tie the bracelet on his wrist. The leather band was warm and snug and the medallion felt like a calming breath on his skin. It was warm and it shone and Tomas couldn't stop looking at it. It was as if the picture of the Saint had a real halo above his head and as Marcus closed his hand over the bracelet and Tomas's wrist, Tomas could feel the warmth seeping into his bones, deep and calming.

"T-thank you," Tomas choked out. "I really don't know what to say..."

"Hey, it's okay. I can always get a new bracelet. If it will help you sleep and maybe keep some demons away, it's the best present I ever gave." There was a small tap on Tomas's chin and he saw the honest smile on Marcus's face.

Tomas felt an overwhelming urge to just hug the man and before he knew he did just that. Marcus seemed to anticipate it though because there was no tension, only a welcoming open arm.

"Dinner will be served in five," came Peter's call from the kitchen and Tomas pulled out of the embrace, running his hand over his suddenly teary eyes. He wasn't going to cry over something like getting a present, he was not.

"Okay, go wash up. I don't know how you did it, but there are some pencil marks on your chin," Marcus said with a smile and Tomas was grateful he didn't mention the fact the shirt where Tomas rested his face was suddenly a bit damper than it was before. Tomas just nodded and without a word ran up the stairs towards the bathroom. If he heard Marcus clear his throat chokedly on his way out of the room, he didn't find the courage to acknowledge it.

* * *

Peter was sitting at the bar, nursing a beer and looking at his watch. It was the second time in just a week he visited this place, both times to see his old pal Luke; who was currently running 30 minutes late, not that Peter was counting. He was just hoping that after their last talk Luke would come in alone with information and not with a team to drag Peter off to the station for an interrogation. 'Speaking of the devil' Peter thought than grimaced, the title hitting a bit too close to home.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," Luke said and sat down on the bar stool next to Peter. Luke was tall and muscular, dark skinned and only a year older than Peter. If Luke hadn't been straight as a nail Peter would have crushed on him hard ever since they met as teenagers. As things were, Luke was a good friend and Peter never regretted it. They knew each other from way back in school, trained together to get into the army. But where Peter was accepted, Luke had to pull out his application. His younger sister was just diagnosed with cancer and there was no way he was leaving her alone. So instead of the army, Luke enrolled to the police academy. Peter still stayed in touch and after returning from Afghanistan, Luke was one of the few people that didn't act strange around him. While they weren't hanging out that much lately and Peter still had to introduce Luke to Marcus, when Peter called him last week to get some drink and talk, Luke came.

That night a week ago went a bit weird as was expected. Peter didn't have a clue how to breach the subject of the murders or Tomas. He wasn't even sure Luke was in a position to offer him some information, but he had to try.

First they caught up on personal lives, on common friends and family. It was actually at the mention of Luke's little niece when Peter spoke about Tomas. He started talking about the kid without thought, the corner of his lips turning up into an involuntary smile as an image of a content Marcus slipped into his mind. It was an image of Marcus chatting with Tomas in their living room and looking happy, the last of the pain that was clouding his eyes since they first met and Peter learned about Gabriel finally gone, or at least pushed so far back it couldn't be seen. Helping Tomas was helping Marcus heal as well and Peter was willing to do anything to make his partner whole again. The fact the kid was growing on him as well was just an added bonus.

So Peter told Luke about a kid his partner brought home and practically adopted as a stray cat. Luke laughed and shook his head, taking a sip of his beer.

"You really need to introduce me to this partner of yours."

"You're welcome to stop by anytime," Peter said with a small smile which vanished in the next moment. It was time to broach the topic he came for. "Uh so, enough about my love life. How's work? Any interesting cases you're working on lately?"

Luke's eyes narrowed a bit.

"Any particular case you have on mind?" he asked and Peter grinned. Luke was nothing if not perceptive and very blunt. Which could have made this meeting either very easy or very problematic.

"Am I that transparent?" Peter wondered out loud and Luke chuckled.

"Well, you usually don't look this tense when going for a drink, unless something's bothering you. It's not your  _love_ life or work, because we talked about the former and the latter is boring as hell. So spill."

"Do you remember our math teacher, Mrs. Williams?"

"That old loon? The one with five cats who could add up any numbers in the world within a second, but thought there were ghosts living in her attic?" Luke's eyes went up and Peter grimaced at the very real description of their teacher.

"Yes. The same 'old loon' who always knew when it would rain and told Amelia Carter two days before her car accident not to drive for at least a week."

"What are you trying to say? Except for the fact she probably had arthritis and had seen the way Amelia drove her car."

"Maybe. Or maybe she really had some 'sixth sense'. Who knows." Peter shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't tell me you believe in that nonsense."

"I've seen so much stuff overseas, Luke... knowing a girl would crash her car few days prior wouldn't surprise me at all," Peter sighed, remembering a young man who had a week until the end of his tour. The man was always in good mood and happy but turned into a scared boy, writing a letter to his family just few hours before a bullet tore through his skull. Somehow, the kid knew what was coming.

Peter took another sip of his beer then realized his glass was empty. He raised a hand to the bartender and waited until another glass was put in front of him. Luke in the meantime watched him, thinking.

"What's really going on, Peter?"

"I might have some information about the mass murder of those families a few weeks back," Peter spoke, eyes focused on the beer. He still sensed Luke tensing, all mirth gone from his face. He was back to business and Peter knew there was no going back.

"What information?"

"Are you working on the case?"

"No, but that doesn't matter. The case is a shitstorm waiting to happen. If the force doesn't get some clues,  _any_ clues, the media will have a field day. Not to mention the riots that are already happening."

"What if I told you I have a witness that is able to describe what happened, yet he wasn't anywhere near the place?"

Luke gave Peter a considering look then rubbed the bridge of his nose in a clear attempt to steer off a headache.

"I have a feeling I'll regret this, but... we are kind of desperate. So yeah, go ahead. Is this hearsay? Or an actual witness?"

Instead of trying to relay details from memory, Peter pulled out several sheets of paper where he printed out the most relevant parts copied from Tomas's journal. He pushed them towards Luke and waited patiently until the man read through them. He watched Luke's eyes turn cold, fingers turning pale from clutching the glass with beer.

"What the hell, Peter? This reads like an eyewitness account. What bullshit are you trying to pull on me?"

"No bullshit, Luke," Peter raised a placating hand. "I swear on my mother's grave, this is real."

Luke shook his head in disbelief.

"This is described from the view of someone right  _there_ , Peter. And I can assure you, there was no one there who survived that massacre outside of the killers. So I repeat my question, what the hell is this?"

Peter swallowed, knowing this was the moment he feared the most, the moment that could land all of them in deep trouble.

"Do you believe in visions, Luke?"

Peter expected a wide stare or anger. He didn't really expect the laughter, but he supposed it was better than some of the alternatives. So he waited until Luke stopped laughing and focused back on him, his face turning into that look of disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Damn man, banging an ex priest really messed you up."

This time it was Peter who chuckled and shook his head.

"Believe it or not, this didn't come from Marcus."

"Who then? Did  _you_ suddenly become a psychic?"

"No. Listen, I... I think I can help you with the case, but... I need you to promise something."

Luke's face was all business now and Peter saw the moment of hesitation, before years of friendship won over and Luke nodded.

"Let me explain everything... without judgment. And promise me you'll give it all due consideration before doing anything rash. It's... there are lives at stake, lives of people I care about."

It was testament to how deep their friendship was that Luke made the promise and heard out everything Peter had to say. It was even more telling that Luke promised to look into things before making a decision that could put Tomas in jeopardy. So they parted, both men hoping they would soon get answers to their questions.

As Luke sat down on the barstool next to Peter this second time, his face serious and humorless, Peter knew his worries were real. That the things Tomas wrote in his journal were real. He just wasn't sure what it all meant for their future or how he and Marcus could help the boy to stop the nightmares that came to life.


	12. Chapter 12

For a while, Tomas thought he was finally granted a break. He should have realized it was just the calm before the storm, one that would throw his whole life into a whirlwind of changes. School was as usual, mostly boring except for the lessons of Latin and the lunch breaks. Few days after his last fit the kids at school started to keep away from Tomas, even the bullies. Tomas wasn't sure if they become scared of him per say... it seemed that some of his classmates let a rumor slip about his eyes going all white during the fit and it creeped the hell out of everyone. Or maybe they just didn't want to risk being anywhere near the freak when the episode hit him, lest they be accused of some wrongdoing. At first Tomas was angry at that... angry at hearing the whispered freak wherever he went, seeing the looks the other kids were throwing his way. He heard the rumors and knew it was useless for him to even try looking for friends right now. So when a girl from his class approached him with a request for help with the material, Tomas brushed her off. He could see her colors swirl as she neared him and he didn't want the pity she was hiding deep inside. It was only two weeks till the summer holidays and Tomas thought he could handle them without any attempts at friendship.

The one thing that kept his spirits up at school however was Marcus and their now regular football games during the lunch break. Tomas didn't want to think what would happen after the summer ended as Marcus's teaching job seemed to come to a close in two weeks as well.

"Hey, you don't have to worry. I might not be teaching here anymore, but that doesn't mean we'll become strangers," Marcus said during one of the lunch breaks when Tomas was feeling especially down at the thought of what came next. They were sitting on the bench behind the school, aside from all the other kids parading around the playground. Marcus was enjoying a sandwich and Tomas could tell it was one made by Peter, just by the amount of salad peeking out between bread. Marcus grimaced at the greenery, but relaxed when he saw there was also ham inside.

"I am starting to think Peter wants me to become a rabbit," he muttered and Tomas snorted, looking at his measly peanut butter and jam sandwich he put together that morning.

"Olivia trying to put you on a diet?" Marcus commented, eyeing his lunch and Tomas rolled his eyes.

"Nah, but her paycheck comes in tomorrow and this was all I could find in the fridge." Tomas shrugged, taking a bite of the sandwich. He wasn't trying to complain really. Ever since he became a permanent visitor at Marcus's house, he got treated to a huge dinner at least three times a week. It might've made a difference in their food budget, however Tomas's appetite was back to what should be normal for a boy his age, which meant he was hungry more often than not. Olivia didn't complain though. It meant Tomas was eating more and looking less like a starved kid.

"Why don't you grab this? Think I'm full," Marcus threw him a small bag of chips. Tomas caught it with a raised eyebrow.

"Thanks," he muttered, diving in.

"So... what will you be doing during the summer?" Tomas asked carefully, trying not to look too interested in the answer but obviously failing if Marcus's smirk was anything to go by.

"Oh, I don't know yet. I have a few extra jobs lined up along with volunteering at the shelter as usual. And I reckon I'll be spending some of my time tutoring one of my favorite students."

"You will?" Tomas asked a corner of his mouth going up in a smile and this time it was Marcus who rolled his eyes.

"You worry too much, kiddo. Me and Peter aren't going anywhere. Whether I work at the school or not... you're always welcome at our house. You understand?"

"Yeah," Tomas said, the food forgotten as he was overcome with feeling of happiness. Marcus wasn't just going to abandon him because he was no longer paid to teach him. Maybe Tomas finally found a friend he could keep.

With that thought in mind, Tomas was in relatively high spirits when he returned home later that day. He declined Marcus's invitation for dinner, seeing as he was at their place a day ago and they had another lesson tomorrow. He wouldn't have minded to spend some time at Marcus's place every day, but he knew the two men also needed some alone time. He was already spending more than enough time with them and Olivia was starting to complain that she never saw him nowadays. So Tomas decided he might for once surprise his big sister with a home cooked meal. He took the lunch money he had stashed away during the last few months when the nightmares drove away his appetite and bought some pasta and sauce. It wouldn't be the fanciest meal, but it might put a smile on Olivia's face in any case.

Tomas was lost in thought and trying to find his keys with one hand, the other holding the shopping bag awkwardly, so he didn't really notice the black car parked in front of their apartment building. He walked up the stairs, mind focused on his first summer in Chicago and how different it will be from Mexico. Tomas was a bit surprised when he turned the key in the door and realized that Olivia was already home. Frowning a bit, he tried to recall her latest work schedule, but came up empty. She was so busy with school and work lately that Tomas wouldn't be surprised if she forgot to go for her shift for once.

"Liv?" he called out, putting the grocery bag down on the kitchen counter and heading automatically towards the small living room. He could hear voices and they were definitely not coming from the TV. Tomas noticed a pair of pricey looking heels by the door and for a moment thought Olivia might've brought home one of her friends or coworkers.

"In here," she called out a bit unnecessarily, as Tomas was already in the door.

"We have a guest, Tomas," she said with a smile and Tomas turned towards the couch, where a distinguished looking woman was sipping tea. She was sitting with her back to him and Tomas couldn't see her face, but he didn't really need to. He knew who she was even before she turned her head and gave him a smile that sent chills down his spine.

"Hello, Tomas. It is nice to finally meet you, young man," she spoke and even though her voice sounded distinguished in itself, to Tomas it was like fingernails on a chalkboard. She wasn't possessed, that much Tomas knew. There was no dark shadow hanging over her shoulder, whispering things to her. No. But her colors were all wrong... a sickly yellow with splotches of black swirling all around, seeping through and boring into everything she touched.

„Tomas?" Olivia threw him a questioning look, a bit taken aback by his reaction, or rather lack of it. Tomas shook off his shock and forced the disgust and sudden fear down. At least he hoped none of those feelings were palpable, but he wasn't so sure. The smile on the woman's face got just a bit cold the longer he stayed silent.

"Uhm, yeah, sorry. Hello," Tomas cleared his throat and very reluctantly reached out to shake the woman's offered hand. "Who... who are you?" he dared to ask, even though he already knew the name, saw it on the webpage with Peter.

"Maria Walters," Maria introduced herself, her hand squeezing Tomas's hand strongly. He tried to return the squeeze, but he felt like a dead fish... his palm was clammy and he could feel cold sweet running down his spine, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. 'What was Maria doing here? How did she find him? And did she know?'

He couldn't voice either of them however, so he put on a shaky smile and stepped over to his sister, leaning almost casually against the chair she was sitting in. His eyes swiped through the living room, almost expecting father Simon to pop out from somewhere, but luckily at least Maria seemed to have come alone.

"Maria is the head of a special outreach program and came here to offer you a place in one of her summer programs. Isn't that great, Tomas?"

Tomas blinked and realized he somehow tuned out when Olivia started to speak. He couldn't help it, Maria's colors fascinated him. While Marcus emanated a warm golden light, Maria was the complete opposite. Her yellow was dull, sickly looking with a hint of pea green. Tomas felt like a long time ago her colors might've been bright but then something terrible happened, something that started the decay of her soul and gave way to the darkness that was starting to appear. It made him feel at the same time pity for the person she could have been and fear of the person she was becoming. He would've most probably reacted unfavorably to her offer even if he didn't know she was working with father Simon. Right now though all he wanted was to get her out of his home, away from Olivia.

"Uhm, sorry. I don't understand," Tomas muttered, looking at his sister who was throwing him concerned looks. "What program?"

"I'm glad you asked. I hope I didn't catch you too unaware, Tomas," Maria spoke and her lips turned up in what was supposed to be an apologetic smile, but for Tomas it held a spark of danger. "I've already visited your school and spoke to your principal, Mr. Stanley a few days back. He highly recommended you for our program, along with two other students."

Tomas swallowed, wondering just who those two unfortunate souls were and why would Mr. Stanley throw them to the wolves, then he shook off the thought, sure that the principal didn't know what was really going on.

"Me? Why... why me?"

"Because you're one of the brightest students at your grade and you're very good at Latin. I think at one point Mr. Stanley called you the 'rising star' of the school, the one who could help the team win in the next Certamen."

Tomas blinked.

"Rising star?" he asked, rather dubiously and was startled when he felt Olivia squeeze his hand and give him a proud smile. That wasn't what he expected and he couldn't understand what his school performance had anything to do with a woman that might've been behind the death of several people. Just the thought made him feel sick to his stomach, but once again he tried to push back the panic. He couldn't show it, not here, not with his sister in danger.

"Oh yes, Mr. Stanley is rather proud of your achievements, especially seeing how complicated your situation is."

Tomas frowned at that, feeling the first hint of anger towards his principal raise. How dare the man talk about his private life with some strangers?

"I'm sorry, but I still don't understand what you're talking about," Tomas said and maybe some of that anger managed to leak into his tone, because Olivia tugged at his hand sharply. Maria just put on a sickly smile, which was all the more scary because Tomas could see the darkness move around her, enveloping her in a cocoon. If it wasn't for Olivia by his side and the fact it was his home, Tomas would've just turned and run right then, knowing he needed Marcus. But he couldn't just leave Olivia with Maria and he instinctively knew that showing he knew something would just make the danger more real. So he gave a half apologetic smile and listened as Maria started explaining about the very prestigious Catholic University of St. Lucia, which she founded along with her husband and two other gentlemen whose names rang a bell for Olivia, but didn't mean anything to Tomas.

"It is a private school which was founded ten years ago. All our pupils are very intelligent and after finishing their studies with us, they usually end up working very 'high end' jobs."

Tomas didn't doubt that but was a bit dismayed to see Olivia throw him a hopeful look.

"I'm still just a junior in high school and well... we don't exactly have money for a private school. So I really don't understand..."

"I can see you're indeed bright, Tomas," Maria's eyes flashed and Tomas fought the urge to take a step back. How could his sister not see she was dangerous? Though seeing the dark circles under Olivia's eyes Tomas felt a pang of guilt. Of course she wouldn't be looking a gift horse in the mouth. She was nearing the end of her rope as it was.

"I'm not offering you a place at our school, well, not yet. We shall see how your studies will continue. But what I can offer is a summer program. 6 weeks spent at the school, boarding, food and all expenses included in the form of tuition."

"Doing what?" Tomas blurted out, just the idea of stepping foot into the school he saw in his vision making him go pale. He squeezed the chair harder, glad that Olivia was shading his hand from Maria's view, because he was sure his grip turned ghost white. "Sorry, but... who would want to spend their summer studying?"

At that Maria laughed and for the first time Tomas thought it might've been a sincere reaction. He was startled by it so he didn't even note Olivia's hissed warning. "Tomas, please."

"That is quite alright, Olivia," Maria said with a smile and Tomas felt his heart skip a beat at the familiarity with which Maria addressed his sister. Just how long did they spend talking before his arrival? Tomas's eyes instinctively turned towards his sister, but he couldn't see any change in her colors, except maybe the growing annoyance he knew was caused by him.

"I'm sure not many teenagers would want to spend their summer at a boarding school. But here's the thing, Tomas," Maria said and their eyes met, causing Tomas to freeze in place.

"I'll be absolutely frank with you. Our school is prestigious and our students all come from families with high incomes and good names. We pride ourselves on that, but the times are changing. Inclusion and diversity is the current boom." She waved her hand in the air and Tomas bristled.

"Are you offering just because I'm half Mexican?" he asked, voice full of disbelief and righteous anger. For a moment he totally forgot that there must've been some other plan, some other reason to pick him. It would be too much of a coincidence otherwise. Next to him Olivia also tensed. While she wasn't the one to decline help, especially where Tomas was concerned, she had her limits as well. And once those limits were crossed, well... good luck in convincing her of anything. Tomas felt relief rush through him... there was no way she would want to send him there.

"Now, don't go putting words in my mouth, young man," Maria opposed and for a moment managed to look even regretful. Tomas didn't trust a word that left her mouth. "My personal thoughts on the matter are that we indeed need students from less fortunate backgrounds. While I love most of the children at our school, even I can recognize some of them are 'spoiled brats', so to speak," Maria said with a wink aimed at Olivia and Tomas was disgruntled to see that Olivia's shoulders marginally relaxed.

"How would bringing in poor kids help with that?" Tomas couldn't help but ask. He had enough bullying at his current school where the differences weren't so huge. He couldn't even imagine what kind of bullying could go on at a prep school like this. As if reading his thoughts, Maria inclined her head and gave a slight shake.

"I can assure you, Tomas, there's a zero tolerance for bullying at our school. But that is beside the point right now. Seeing as during the summer program there will be only the minimum amount of our students."

Tomas frowned, trying to figure out what was the woman's angle and how he could find out without outright calling her out. His sister however didn't seem to have that dilemma. Olivia squared her shoulders and put on a smile, but her voice was firm when she asked:

"Is inclusion the only thing you're looking for? I hope you won't take this wrong, Mrs. Walters, because I think your summer program offer is very generous and I'm sure it would help Tomas further his studies and better his chances at getting to a good university in the future. But to put it simply... what is in it for you?"

Tomas blinked, surprised his sister asked so bluntly. He was equally impressed but also scared, because he saw something more than just the 'friendly' looking smile on Maria's face. He saw the darkness swirl nervously and knew she was trying to suppress her annoyance, could read it in her aura clear as day. Tomas gently touched his sister's shoulder and bit at the inside of his mouth, stopping himself from commenting.

Maria sighed.

"I can see brightness runs in the family," she said, trying to put Olivia at ease. It didn't exactly work, Tomas could tell by the tense shoulder under his palm. "Very well. There has been some pressure from the Church to raise our participation in charity work. It is a bit complicated to explain the politics involved, but the board decided bringing in low income students might help. However, the board also doesn't want to just throw the children to the wolves, so to speak, so first there will be the summer program. Those who will do well will get a chance at a full ride in the following years."

Tomas wasn't convinced, but that might've been because he knew things, things that hopefully Maria Walters won't figure out he knew. His sister was a different matter however. Upon hearing the chance about getting a full ride at the university, Olivia's eyes perked up and Tomas knew she just clung to that last sentence like a drowning person.

"Full ride?" she repeated, as if dreaming.

"Liv?" Tomas blurted out, giving a slight shake of his head. No, no way. He wasn't setting foot anywhere near that school.

"Is Tomas already on the list or are you still deciding on who to take?"

"Liv, I don't-" Tomas started protesting, but Olivia gave him such a harsh look he closed his mouth. This wasn't the time, he clearly read in her eyes. Maria seemed to ignore the slight war between the siblings and just pushed a file across the table, towards Olivia.

"Tomas will be on the list if he decides to join. Of course we don't want to force anyone. This is just an offer. A rather gracious one, but you are free to decline."

"We won't-" Olivia started to say when Tomas couldn't stand it anymore.

"I don't want to go!" he said strongly. Olivia's mouth opened in surprise, which quickly turned to disbelief and also anger.

"That's enough, Tomas. Stop acting like a brat. If you can't discuss this matter seriously, you better go to your room."

"But-"

"No buts. Go." There was a look in Olivia's eyes Tomas hadn't ever seen before, not aimed at him at least. It was disappointment and it cut deep. Despite his resolution not to leave his sister alone with Maria, Tomas couldn't stay in the room anymore. He wanted to rush out and slam the door, but knew it would only deepen Olivia's disappointment and right now she was more important than making sure Maria Walters got the message to stay away from him.

"I'm sorry," he muttered through gritted teeth and bid a curt goodbye to Maria, trying not to look into her eyes, even though he could clearly see the look of triumph.

Tomas left the living room but despite the anger that was slowly simmering under the surface, he paused in the hall, leaning against the wall and listened as Olivia said excuses for his behavior and assured Maria that Tomas just needed to take it all in. Maria's voice now dripping with honey reassured Olivia that it is quite alright, she was used to sulky teenagers and most of them didn't like when their summer plans were thrown over.

Tomas gritted his teeth so hard he could feel a headache building. He couldn't stand the fact Olivia was deciding about his future without him in the room, that she felt compelled to apologize to Maria Walters of all people.

"As I said, it is a good offer, better than Tomas will ever get. My number is in the files. Read it then decide. I know it's fast, but I'll need to hear back from you within the next two days. If Tomas doesn't want to join us, there is plenty of other students that will."

While that was said calmly, Tomas could read the warning behind the words and he was sure Olivia could as well. 'Take it or leave it'. Only in this case he had a feeling that leaving it wasn't really an option, not one without consequences.

When there was a sound of movement and thank yous exchanged, Tomas beat a hasty retreat to his room. He didn't want to face the woman again, not if he could help it. Closing the door behind himself with a soft click instead of an angry slam took a huge effort but somehow Tomas managed. Not that it helped much, as two minutes later Olivia stormed into his room, looking more angry than Tomas saw her for quite some time. If ever.

"What the hell was that, Tomas?" she started even as Tomas fought the urge to take a step back when seeing the anger and disappointment emanating from his sister.

"I could ask the same," he said quietly, standing in place.

"Excuse me?" Olivia was now only inches from him, frowning. The tone in which she asked irked Tomas. He heard the same tone from his mother several times and it never bode well for him. The thought of his mother brought back memories and feelings Tomas was trying hard to suppress for the last few months, if not years. None of them were good, reeking of disappointment and a promise of abandonment. That's when Tomas looked up and his own fear upon encountering Maria Walters in his home turned into anger. Anger over being ambushed in the one place he should've felt safe, anger over Olivia not seeing the bigger picture. But most of all...

"You just want to get rid of me." He spoke quietly at first, but as the look of confusion on Olivia's face deepened, his voice rose. "Is that it? Am I too much of a freak to handle for you too?"

"Tomas, what the hell are you talking about?" Olivia managed to ask, reaching out towards him, but Tomas stepped back. He ignored the look of hurt on her face or the weariness. For the moment he was being consumed by bright hot anger. He didn't know where it came from or why, he just knew that for a moment it felt good.

"You... you let that woman into our house. That woman who did despicable things, who has blood on her hands and what for? So that you could get rid of me for the summer?"

"Tomas, listen to yourself! What are you talking about? What blood?" Olivia turned from angry to concerned, even scared, but Tomas didn't care. He started pacing his room, needing to get some of the anger and energy out. It was like Maria's essence reached out to him... he felt almost tainted. Tomas shook his head and rubbed his left arm so hard it must've left red marks under the shirt.

"She's not good, Liv. I saw her... before... at the school. And the man... they want to hurt me. I don't want to go anywhere. I need to stay here, with Marcus and Peter. It's important. Please, don't make me leave. Don't..." He realized he wasn't making much sense but he couldn't help it.

Olivia blinked, standing near the door and watching him with wide eyes. At the mention of Marcus and Peter though she seemed to be pulled out of her stupor and she stepped in front of Tomas's path, blocking it.

"Tomas, I don't know what you're talking about. But this has to stop. Ever since... ever since you met those men, something has changed about you. Did... did they hurt you?"

Tomas froze, the words like a kick in the gut.

"What?"

"You're acting strange, Tomas. You spend most of your days over there... then when you come home you pray... I don't understand. And it scares me."

"How... how could you even think they hurt me?" Tomas's anger turned to disbelief and hurt. "They would never hurt me. Never!" Tomas said forcefully but Olivia still didn't look convinced.

"Unlike my own family... who likes to send me away at any opportunity," he said with venom and watched as Olivia took a step back as if he had slapped her. The look of shock on her face sent a pang of guilt through Tomas and he blinked. Suddenly the bright hot anger didn't feel so good anymore, not when it caused pain to his sister. It felt cold and dangerous and Tomas shuddered. His right arm reached instinctively for his left wrist where the bracelet lay. He could feel the warmth seeping into his skin and there were pins and needles as if his arm had fallen asleep. Tomas looked at it like it was some strange body part that didn't belong to him at all.

He was brought back to reality by a choked sob. Head swinging up and eyes wide he looked at his sister, who had a hand over her mouth, trying to stop the sound.

"I... I didn't mean that Liv-" Tomas choked out and took a step forward, but this time it was Olivia who stepped back.

"How... how can you even say something like that?" she said, her voice shaking and tears running down her cheeks. It tore at Tomas's heart.

"I would never... never send you away, Tomas," she hiccupped. "Even when m-mom did. I tried... I tried to stop her! I wanted to go with you!"

"I'm sorry, Liv-" Tomas said, hoping she would take his apology, but Olivia shook her head, rubbing the tears away and squaring her shoulders even though her whole body was shaking.

"I'm doing e-everything I can so we can stay together," she said, weariness and anger returning to her voice. "I have two j-jobs and school, just... just to keep you with me. We still didn't ... didn't get any money from mom's insurance and there are so many bills for everything and I... I don't know what else to do, Tomas. You're acting strange, but I don't have the time to figure it out and now... now when we get at least a little break, a chance at a better future, you're throwing it all away for what? Some stories about the woman you never met before?" Olivia was sobbing now and Tomas couldn't help it, he had to take a step and just pull her into an embrace. He was still a bit smaller than his sister, but she buried her head into his shoulder.

"I can't do anything else, Tomas. I just can't. I'm barely keeping us afloat now. I'm too tired and I don't know what to do anymore and you're scaring me."

"Shh..." Tomas rubbed his hand over Olivia's back and kept making hushing sounds. "I'm sorry, Liv. Lo siento. Por favor, perdóname."

It took a while, but Olivia calmed down and Tomas didn't feel so shaky either. If anything, his outburst left him feeling empty and tired.

As Olivia pulled away with a somehow embarrassed sniff, she looked at Tomas concernedly, a hand reaching to his face.

"What happened Tomas? That summer program-"

"Please," Tomas caught her hand. "Can we... can we just not talk about it tonight?" he shot her a pleading look and something must've shown on his face because she slowly nodded.

"Okay. Not tonight. But we need to... this... you can't let this slip away, Tomas."

Tomas didn't comment on that, didn't know how. He needed to speak to Marcus and Peter first, to figure out some plan or to get their support. He knew he couldn't do this alone, couldn't face his sister alone. Because he knew that in the end he would give up and agree, just to get that worried look off her face. To do anything not to disappoint.

"I... I bought some pasta. Wanted to make you a nice dinner..." Tomas said and Olivia blinked, taken aback by the change of topic. Tomas hoped she would take it though. He really didn't want to fight anymore.

"Oh, that... that sounds nice, Tomas. I would love some pasta, but... I need to go to work tonight."

Tomas frowned.

"Again?"

Olivia shrugged and Tomas could see her eyes were getting misty again so he quickly shook his head.

"That's okay. I just lost track. Well... can you stay for dinner at least?"

"Y-yeah. I don't have to leave until nine."

"Good. Cause I couldn't eat that much food by myself," Tomas said and they both smiled.

The dinner was a quiet affair, at least where conversation was concerned. Olivia wanted to help with the cooking but Tomas sent her away, to freshen up or get a short nap before work. He didn't care as far as she was out of the kitchen. Olivia obliged and took a shower while Tomas tried to remember what his Abuela added into the pasta sauce that made it taste so good. He gave that up however, because he was pretty sure it was something from the herb garden Tomas didn't have an access to now. In the end the dinner was quite edible, if a little bland. They ate it in the living room with the TV turned to the news station. Tomas was just happy they were focusing on the international politics and weren't reporting any new gruesome murders. He still felt a bit wonky around the edges every time his eyes fell on the file lying idly on the coffee table. Even in the half lit room, Tomas thought he could see small dark shadows dancing around the paper's edges, though he was sure that one was just his imagination.

When Olivia finished eating, she somehow reluctantly started to get ready for work.

"Tomas, if you need me, I... I can stay home tonight and we can talk." She offered, standing in the kitchen door, while Tomas was putting the dishes to the sink. He paused then shook his head.

"No, that's okay. I think I need some time to get my head straight. We... we can talk tomorrow."

Olivia didn't look convinced. She walked up to Tomas and on an impulse enveloped him in a hug from behind, putting her chin on his shoulder.

"Are you sure, hermano?" she asked softly.

Tomas's mouth twitched at the word and for a moment he leaned back into that hug and closed his eyes, trying to remember the times when things seemed to be easy, times when his older sister was huge as the world and seemed to know everything and protect him from everyone. Those times were over now though. He knew Olivia was still doing her best to protect him, but he also knew she was operating on a limited knowledge base. But how could he explain that to her? To show her the truth? And was it really the truth?

The doubts started gnawing at him and Tomas knew he needed time to think but even more he needed to talk to Marcus. He needed to feel the grounding presence, needed reassurance that the situation was still under control. With a sigh, Tomas turned and plastered a mostly honest smile on his face as he kissed Olivia on the cheek.

"I'm fine, Liv. Honestly. What, are you afraid I'll call up some girls and throw an impromptu party?"

"Well, now that you said it... should I be?" Olivia raised an eyebrow and Tomas rolled his eyes.

"Please, as if you didn't know me. I'll just... finish the dishes and hunker down with a book. Like I always do."

This time it was Olivia who sighed, looking like she wanted to make some point but changed her mind. Tomas was grateful. He wasn't sure how well he could handle another debate with his sister right now.

"Just go, sis. I'll be fine."

She finally relented and with another kiss on his cheek, she headed for the door, but paused.

"If you'll feel like it... the file about the summer program is on the coffee table." Olivia raised her hand to stop the protest that was already coming out of Tomas's mouth. "Just... give it a look. Nothing else. Please?"

Tomas bit at his lower lip, then gave Olivia a short nod and turned back to the dishes. He could hear her standing there for several more seconds, watching him, but she didn't say anything else.

Tomas waited until he heard the front door lock to let his shoulders fall. He finished washing the dishes and waited few more minutes, just in case Olivia would've changed her mind or just forgot something. When ten more minutes passed by and Tomas's lip was sore from all the worrying, Tomas finally picked up his phone.

"Tomas? What's wrong?" Marcus asked as soon as he picked up the phone and Tomas blinked, thinking that perhaps he had it all wrong and Marcus was the one with visions.

"Uh. How did you know something's wrong?" he asked a bit stupidly and heard a short chuckle.

"Usually you don't call at this time. Are you alright?"

"Sorry... I didn't want to disturb, just..."

"Tomas," Marcus's voice rang through the phone. "You're never disturbing. Now tell me what happened."

Tomas swallowed. The sentiment sent a rush of warmth through his veins, which was probably the only reason why he was able to say Maria Walters's name without his voice shaking.

"She was here, at my place. I... I don't know what to do."

It didn't take too much convincing for Marcus to hop in the car and drive to Tomas's place. Tomas felt such relief he didn't even try to protest. When he ended the call with reassurances that Marcus will arrive shortly, Tomas sat down on the couch, his eyes stuck on the file looking so innocent yet so dangerous at the same time. He caught himself staring at it for over five minutes, fascinated by the hint of the sickly yellow with moving dark specks that was surrounding the file. He almost reached out to open it, but his hand stopped a few inches away as the dark shadows seemed to reach out towards him. Tomas pulled away and with wide eyes stood up and left the living room. He busied himself with making tea and waiting for the doorbell to ring, trying hard to ignore the strange pull towards the living room.

Finally, Marcus was there and Tomas felt true relief for the first time since his return home.

"Sorry, for calling you out. I just... don't know what to do," he said as he let Marcus inside and led him towards the kitchen.

"Hey, it's okay." Marcus put a reassuring hand on Tomas's shoulder. "I told you to call me whenever you need, right? I think an unwelcome visitor is more than enough reason."

Tomas gave a thankful smile, and with a nod settled behind the kitchen table. The tea was already prepared and Marcus gave it an amused glance.

"I know we Brits like our tea, but I'm quite partial to coffee as well," he joked and Tomas blushed.

"Sorry. I didn't think coffee was good this late."

„Hey, relax. Everything's going to be fine."

Tomas wasn't so sure, he had some strange feeling of foreboding and he told Marcus just the same. Marcus took a sip of the tea and looked questioningly at Tomas.

"What do you mean? Like a vision?"

Tomas shook his head.

"No. I'm just... "Tomas shrugged, frustrated. "Like when stuff is good for too long and you just wait for the other shoe to drop?"

Marcus inclined his head. Tomas might've had trouble explaining it, but Marcus understood all too well. He was having that feeling ever since seeing Tomas's journal however, so it wasn't new to him.

"Everyone has that feeling sometimes," he tried to brush it off. There was no sense in admitting his own fears, least he worried Tomas even more. "Okay, tell me what happened, every detail."

Tomas did. He recounted every word Maria Walters uttered, the strange look she gave him as well as the way the sickness was eating away at her soul. Then he nodded towards the living room door with a look of disgust on his face.

"That file... I can still see it crawling with her energy. I don't even want to touch it, but Olivia will want to read it, I know. I can't stop her."

"Well, I can always take the file and burn it," Marcus offered, and even though it sounded good, Tomas shook his head.

"That won't stop them," he muttered under his breath, his face scrunching up in a grimace. "I don't understand. Why me? What good am I to anyone?"

"Hey, stop talking like that," Marcus protested then put a hand on the back of Tomas's downcast head, waiting patiently until Tomas looked up at him with a sigh. "Stop putting yourself down, Tomas. You're much more important than you can even imagine."

There was deep conviction in Marcus's eyes that made Tomas feel confusion but also a surge of warmth. It seemed like Marcus meant it.

"Thanks, but I... I didn't mean it like that," Tomas said finally, blushing a bit.

"What did you mean then?" Marcus leaned back in the chair, not letting his eyes off of Tomas's face.

"I get how they could use those kids I suppose. They're all from influential families, rich, headed into important positions. But me? I'm a charity case for them... there's no way I can get a job that would mean something for whatever plan they're brewing..."

Marcus sighed then run a hand over his hair.

"We don't really know what they want, Tomas. Though I think you're selling yourself short. If you put your head to it and had someone influential on your side, you can go very high indeed. But-" Marcus paused, seemingly mulling over his next words. "I think with you it's something else entirely."

Tomas was almost too afraid to ask what he meant by that, partially suspecting the answer.

"What is it?"

"Do you remember what you told me a week ago? When I asked if those shadows can see you too?"

Tomas did and now he swallowed the sudden nausea. He was glad he was sitting, because he felt a bit lightheaded.

"You okay?" Marcus asked a bit worriedly.

"They do see me, just like I see them. Is that... can that even be true?" The idea that he could be seen by any demon or possessed person and instantly identified as someone different sent a pang of fear through his body. It was so strong he physically gasped, the only thing keeping him from bolting or succumbing to full blown panic was Marcus's touch grounding him in the here and now.

Tomas shook his head in denial.

"No. I... I can't stop that... how can I stop that? If they see me I can't be safe. They'll keep coming for me wherever I am and then they can hurt Olivia too..."

Tomas couldn't take that thought. Hands clenched into fists, fingernails digging into the skin of his palms, Tomas resolutely pushed away from the table and stepped towards the sink, grabbing a glass and pouring some cold water into it, ignoring how much his hand was shaking. Was this even real?

"What if I'm crazy? What if this... everything is just in my head? How can I refuse such an offer when Olivia is working herself half to death just to pay the bills?" Tomas blurted out, turning back to Marcus with a look of despair on his face. Marcus was in front of him in a second, a gentle hand on his face.

"Hey, hey. It's okay. Kid, you're taking too much on your shoulders. The weight will crush you if you keep going like this."

"I don't know what to do, Marcus. I can't tell Olivia the truth or she would lock me up in an asylum. And I don't even know what the truth _is_. What if it's all just in my head? What if I'm really just crazy?"

"That would be easier, hm?" Marcus said and Tomas blinked, taken aback.

"What?"

"If you were indeed crazy. It would be all so much easier. Knowing all those horrible things are just in your head, that they aren't real. Knowing that maybe a pill or a bit of therapy could help?"

Tomas found himself nodding, because yes. Being crazy at this point would at least be an explanation he could understand and maybe deal with. But then Marcus's finger tapped his chin and Tomas looked up into his eyes and saw the sorrow and the weariness of experience in them.

"I'm sorry Tomas," Marcus said and Tomas understood.

"It's all true?"

"I'm afraid so."

"No. How... how can you be so sure? Maybe I just saw something on the TV or read the papers," Tomas was grasping at straws even as Marcus shook his head.

"We didn't tell you because we didn't want to worry you needlessly. But Peter's contact came back to us and some of the information you had... it was never released. There was no way you could have known if you weren't there... and I'm pretty sure you aren't a mass murderer, Tomas."

"What?" Tomas felt his legs go weak and his hold on the glass slipped. He was watching as if in slow motion as it dropped towards the floor, expected it to shatter into hundreds of shards just like his mind felt right now. But Marcus was there, grabbing the glass mid air and saving it from that fate and Tomas blinked. Marcus was there and maybe he could save him as well.

"What should I do?" he asked almost in a whisper and let himself be led to the table without protest.

"Maybe you should tell Olivia the truth," Marcus offered, though even Tomas could hear the doubt in his voice. Tomas shook his head.

"No. She would never believe me. She would accuse you of putting ideas into my head... she might even call the cops. She... she's already thinking there's something weird going on."

Marcus's eyes turned a bit darker and Tomas felt embarrassed for his sister, for the accusations that hang silently in the air.

"I'm sorry. I really don't know how to fix this... what to do. I could refuse; I would, even though Olivia will be mad about it. But... I'm scared. They already know where I live, they know about Olivia. What if they decide to do... to do to us what they did to those families? I can't protect us." Tomas felt his chest grow tight with fear and panic over the thought that someone might barge in and simply cut his sister's throat.

"That's not going to happen, Tomas. Do you hear me?"

Tomas did, but hearing and listening were two different things.

"You can't promise that. You can't protect us-" Tomas was shaking as one horrific scenario after another jumped through his head.

"Hey, stop it!" Marcus barked putting a momentary pause to the gruesome images of decapitation. "Nothing happened yet, we still have a few days and even if you refuse, there's no reason to think they would act right away. In the meantime, we will figure something out, yes?"

Tomas wished he was right, hoped for it with all his heart. He gave a slight nod and closed his eyes, trying to fight down the panic. Marcus pulled him into a hug and for a moment Tomas thought it might actually be okay, that maybe Marcus was right and they could figure this all out.

They spent another half hour talking, until Marcus was sure that Tomas was calm enough to actually be able to get some sleep. It was already quite late when Marcus texted Peter that he was heading back home shortly.

"I'll talk this over with Peter and you stall Olivia. Tomorrow when you come over we'll decide what to do next, okay?"

Tomas nodded and followed Marcus towards the door.

"Thank you, Marcus. I don't know what I would've done..."

Marcus shook his head and ruffled Tomas's hair.

"That's okay, kid. Try to get some sleep, yeah?"

Tomas nodded and opened the door to let Marcus out. The hall was dark, the only light source coming from Tomas's apartment. He frowned, knowing well the lights should turn on with the motion detector. Marcus stepped out of the door, joking about hopefully not breaking his neck on the stairs, when there was a crack, his voice pausing in the middle of the word. Tomas heard a thud of a body hitting the floor and before he could react, the darkness of the hall moved towards him, reaching out. Tomas stumbled backwards a few steps, reaching out blindly to slam the door, but it was too late. A bulky man he didn't know stood in the doorway, a gun in his hand and a double pupil glaring threateningly at Tomas.

Tomas could only open his mouth and call out Marcus's name before something descended in a swift motion. There was a blinding pain in his head and then only darkness enveloping him in its cold embrace.


	13. Chapter 13

Peter was pacing the living room nervously, looking at the clock intermittently, then walking up to the window and watching the road. It was almost an hour since Marcus sent him the message that he was on his way back. The drive shouldn't have taken more than 30 minutes. Even though there might've been several reasons why Marcus wasn't already home, parked on the couch and explaining just what was the emergency with Tomas, none of those explained why Marcus wasn't picking up his damn phone.

There was a bad feeling gnawing in the pit of Peter's stomach, a long forgotten whisper of 'danger' in the back of his mind running in a loop. He knew something must've happened and he cursed the fact the work kept him late. By the time he arrived home the house was empty and all he got in explanation was a short call from Marcus saying that Tomas is in some trouble and he's going after him.

"Do you want me to come there?" Peter asked upon hearing that. There was some hesitation, but then Marcus declined.

"No, it'll be okay. He just needs to talk. If there was a problem I'll call. Dinner is in the oven, all yours. I've already had some."

"And you're alive to tell the tale? Impressive," Peter joked, then sobered. "If there's any sign of trouble-"

"I'll call. But you know, I can handle this stuff," Marcus said and Peter could read the silent 'I've been handling this for over twenty years' loud and clear.

"I know. But you don't have to do it alone. Partners, right?"

There was silence then a sigh and Peter could just imagine the small smile tugging on his lover's lips.

"Love you," Marcus said and Peter, as usual, said "Love you too."

He came home, ate the mostly dry but surprisingly not charred meatloaf and relaxed on the couch, the phone next to him. He smiled when Marcus texted him he was on his way home. The situation couldn't have been so dire; otherwise he would've called to fill him in. Peter idly changed the channels on the TV, wondering just what Tomas's emergency was and hoping the kid was okay. Half an hour went by and there was no sign of Marcus. Still, Peter didn't worry that much. He might be caught in some traffic or just stopped by at a shop. Fifteen minutes later Peter looked at his phone which was lying there dark. No message. With a sigh, and risking to be called an overprotective boyfriend or a mother hen, he dialed Marcus's number. The phone went straight to voice mail and suddenly Peter's mouth felt parched. He wasn't panicking, not yet. Marcus could've just forgotten to charge the battery...

Peter waited ten more minutes, but there was no sign of the car, no sign of Marcus. His mind was filled with images of gruesome car accidents, but at the same time his gut churned with thoughts of demons and people with cut throats and missing hearts or other organs. No, this was no child's play and he shouldn't have become so complacent. The fact he left the cruelties of war behind a few years ago didn't mean there was peace on the home front.

With the feeling of dread, Peter dialed Tomas's cell phone and felt a momentary relief when he heard it ringing. If the kid was alright, Marcus could've just broken his phone or something. But the longer the phone rang the worse was the feeling of dread. He could feel cold sweat on his skin and his heart beating hard as Tomas's phone went to voice mail. Peter tried two more times only to come to the conclusion that Tomas wasn't going to pick up his phone either. And knowing the kid there was no chance he was ignoring the phone, not when Olivia kept using it to check on him. She would kill him if he ignored the phone.

Peter was standing by the window for two more minutes, the phone held tight in his hand while he tried to calm his breathing. Something was wrong that was for sure. Whatever happened, Marcus and Tomas needed help and Peter was damned if he would just wait around like a helpless lug.

He and Marcus had already discussed some worst case scenarios; they just didn't think they would come to them so soon. And having both Tomas and Marcus vanish on him definitely wasn't in one of their back up plans. But thinking about back up, Peter knew it was time to call in help. Marcus already made the mistake of going alone; Peter wasn't going to make the same one.

* * *

Marcus couldn't believe what was happening. At first he felt stupid when he woke up, tied to a chair in a cold empty room without windows. It looked like an office in some warehouse, at least if the echo of voices and sounds from afar was anything to go by. There was nothing, just a light bulb flickering above, a concrete floor and another chair, with a clearly unconscious occupant. Marcus blinked then shook his head to clear it. Whoever hit him made a good job of it. He could feel blood trickling down the back of his neck. Everything was spinning and it took him a moment to get his thoughts straight, to remember where he was, who he was. But then it all came rushing back with startling quality and he recognized the slumped form of the boy to his right as Tomas.

His insides churned and he felt the breath come out in a short gasp with the realization that he wasn't able to protect the boy. They were alone in the room, just him and unconscious Tomas. At least Marcus hoped the kid was only unconscious. He could see blood trickling down his face from a head wound, but no other bruises or sign of violence. The chest was rising regularly in calm breaths.

"Tomas?" Marcus hissed, keeping his voice down, but Tomas didn't react and that sent a spike of worry through his heart, along with panic. He tried to figure out what exactly happened or why. Why did they attack now?

That question was answered within a moment, when father Simon walked in accompanied by Maria Walters. The woman looked out of place and nervous, but she still held her head up high and there was coldness in her eyes. Marcus knew there was something that made her broken, that threw her in the path of evil, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He sneered, even as father Simon stepped right up to him with a grin on his face and a second pupil glaring from his right eye.

"Ah, look who's awake. Our guest of honor, the great father Marcus Keane himself!"

Maria clenched her teeth but didn't reply or otherwise react. Behind her, two men appeared. Their empty dead eyes and holsters with guns clearly stating they were just henchmen, maybe some lower demons trying out the flesh suit. Marcus gave them no notice. They wouldn't lift a finger without Simon's command, same as Maria.

"I don't remember being invited to a party," Marcus said through dry throat. "Sorry if my appearance isn't up to par."

Father Simon gave him a searching look then howled with laughter, as if Marcus said such a great joke. Marcus barely forced down the shudder of disgust upon hearing that sound.

"I see you already know my name, but I don't know yours."

Simon stopped laughing and instead tutted.

"Ah, don't tell me the great exorcist Marcus Keane didn't do his homework. Oh wait, you're not an exorcist anymore. Or a priest, for that matter." There was a glint in Simon's eyes as he watched, waiting for reaction.

Marcus wasn't willing to give him one. He didn't think of himself as a priest for a long time, maybe never. He gave up the title easily. As for being an exorcist... that wasn't something that could be given up in his mind. The moment God touched him and lent him His power to cast out demons, Marcus became an exorcist. It was such an integral part of his being, it won't ever change. Not even when God stopped talking to him. The fact Tomas saw his touch was proof enough.

"If I'm not an exorcist or a priest, I cease to see a reason for you to drag me here," Marcus said and saw a spark of anger in Simon's eyes, saw Maria fidget behind him.

"Is this really necessary, father Simon? I thought we would take care of the boy as usual. Now his sister will know he went missing and I was at their house..."

Simon turned to Maria, his eyes cold and unforgiving and she took a step back in visible fear.

"Dear Maria," he spoke, his voice all honey and sugar, but also sharp as a knife as he stepped to her, his hand running in a gentle caress down her cheek, only to grasp at her chin painfully. Maria gasped but she didn't pull away, knew it was useless. "I thought I made myself clear. Convince the boy to come willingly. All you had to do was return with a signed paper, without raising suspicion. What good it is to have a vessel untouched by us if the boy could see through your farce?"

"I tried," Maria whimpered, her eyes wide and pleading. "I swear I did. His sister was convinced, but the moment he saw me, he knew. I don't know how-"

Simon took in a deep whiff then pushed her away from him with disgust.

"Because you reek of  _want_! You're so pathetic; you can't even deceive a child."

"He's not a normal child, you know that!" she said, trying to keep her composure, but failing miserably.

"Pathetic!" Simon snapped and turned away from her. "But I will deal with that later." He waved her off as a fly and she slinked back to the door, but didn't leave.

"Here I thought demons were working a bit more 'subtly'," Marcus sneered. "Worming their way inside. Instead you're kidnapping people? That's a new low, even for you."

"I must admit, this isn't my proudest moment," Simon agreed. "We prefer luring our victims, but dear Tomas here proves to be a bit more resilient than we expected. Now seeing  _you_  coming to his rescue, that explains a lot."

"He's just a kid, from a poor family. What good he is to you anyway? Don't you have better 'candidates' in your precious prep school?"

Simon's eyebrows rose curiously.

"Ah, so you did indeed do your homework. Not that it would do you any good. Seeing as dear old daddy left the house, discarding you like a used rag." Simon spoke with mirth, his words intended to cut and cut they did. Marcus could feel the chill, the silent rage bubbling to the surface.

"Did I hit a sore spot?" Simon inclined his head, studying Marcus's face. His hand reached out and tapped at Marcus's chin condescendingly and Marcus couldn't help it, he lunged forward and tried to take a bite of that hand, to hurt the man that was holding him hostage. Of course he barely nicked the flesh as Simon pulled back laughing. Marcus didn't even hear a command and one of the henchmen was there, his fist connecting with Marcus's face. Several punches landed on his torso as well, leaving him dazed and breathless. Another hit to the face, splitting his lip in half and Marcus thought he might pass out. Just one more hit and he would be out like a light, but the hit never came. Simon whistled, calling the man off like a dog, leaving Marcus hanging in the chair, the only thing keeping him upright the ropes around his chest and arms.

"Why do you even fight, Marcus?" Simon's voice was suddenly too close, right by his ear but Marcus couldn't pull away. He was blinking away the darkness, realizing that passing out would leave Tomas alone.

"I won't let you have him," Marcus muttered, then spat a wad of blood on the floor, barely missing Simon's lacquered shoe.

"You're not in a position to stop us, Marcus," Simon answered smugly. "We will get him either way."

"Why?" Marcus asked and Simon frowned, thinking the question senseless. "Why  _him_?"

"Ah," Simon understood. "Because he's special, of course. Not  _your way_  special, no. God didn't deem him good enough to be his vessel it seems." Simon made a face, as if feeling genuinely sorry for the boy, then smirked. "Well, the better for us, I suppose."

"He's not up for taking," Marcus growled. Simon just shrugged.

"Not your place to decide,  _Marky boy_ ," he smirked, then walked up to Tomas and tapped at his face, but the boy seemed to be out cold. Simon gave a disappointed sigh. "Oh well. Looks like he needs a bit of beauty sleep." Simon trailed his finger down Tomas's cheek and Marcus shuddered.

"Get your filthy hands off him!" he spat towards Simon, his own skin crawling at the sight. Simon raised an eyebrow as if in challenge and leaned closer to Tomas's unconscious form, his hand burrowing into the boy's hair and yanking his head up. Tomas gave an involuntary moan, but didn't wake up.

Marcus was livid about the treatment.

"Don't you dare!" he shouted and started fighting his bonds, expecting Simon to laugh or to continue his sick game, but something changed. The atmosphere became cold and Simon let go of Tomas's head as if burned. He didn't show any sign of pain, but there was a momentary look of discomfort, the second pupil flashing dangerously and Simon took a step back, rubbing his hands clean, as if he'd just touched something gross. Coming from a demon that gesture was more than strange. Tomas's head lolled back on his chest, his breathing even and calm.

Marcus blinked, trying to comprehend what just happened.

"Still thinking God didn't touch him?" Marcus snorted, provocatively. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but pulling the attention away from Tomas was his priority. That and biding their time. He was sure Peter already knew they were in trouble and was on his way. He was just hoping that Peter had enough time to bring back up as well.

"Oh, that is not God's work," Simon snarled, the mirth momentarily gone from his voice as he turned back to Marcus. "Or do you really think your precious boy is worth the old man's time?"

Marcus frowned.

"Tomas has nothing to do with you bastards."

Simon shrugged.

"Maybe. Maybe he does, who knows? All I know is that he is special and who gets to him first can use him."

"You keep saying he's special, yet you insist it's not God's work?" Marcus was truly confused, because he knew there was no bad bone in Tomas. "If he was a work of evil, you wouldn't be here now, wouldn't be trying to 'convert him'."

"God's work! What do people have with God?" Simon threw up his hands dramatically, looking at Maria as if she should agree with him, then turning back to Marcus. "Do you really think God has time for someone as insignificant as you? You are just ants. Where was your God when your precious Gabriel needed him? He took a vacation, huh?"

Marcus couldn't help it, he flinched and it was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Simon caught on.

"Ah, did I hit a sore spot? What is it with you and young boys, Marcus? Always falling for the wrong one," Simon tutted, shaking his head.

Marcus' eyes went wide at the implication then he gave a laugh of disbelief.

"You're off your rocker," Marcus said, unkindly. "You have to twist everything, however pure it is."

"Pure? Oh, I assure you, this boy is anything but pure," Simon leered. "Do you want to know how we found him?" Simon was back in Marcus's personal space, so close Marcus could smell his putrid breath on his face. Grimacing, he pulled away, but his eyes never left Simon's.

"What, did you pull out school yearbooks and throw darts at pictures?" Marcus guessed, trying to sound uninterested, all the while his mind was shouting 'Yes you bastard, I want to know, I need to know so that I can stop it from happening again!'

"Now I know why you decided to become an exorcist. Comedy just wasn't for you, huh?"

Simon cast a look over at Tomas who still seemed unconscious. If not for the fact that it was buying them precious time, Marcus would be really trying to wake him up. While he was concerned about his prolonged unconsciousness he was also a bit glad that Tomas was being spared all this for as long as possible.

"Your precious, 'pure' Tomas here is anything but normal. You know how we find our 'hosts'? There's this... aura, if you will, a mirror of their soul. It makes it very easy to spot the darkness lurking inside, the fears and vices. Most humans have a simple aura, filled with their wants and worries. Even yours..." Simon's lips twitched in a cruel smile and Marcus braced himself for the words.

"I can see God's touch, but really, it's fading, and underneath," Simon snorted. "Nothing but simplicity and rot. Your soul is stained, Marcus, by all the people you let down."

Marcus swallowed, but kept his eyes on Simon and the demon seemed to bask in the attention.

"So what? You see auras now? Is that how all you demons read people?"

"One of the ways, yes. You didn't think I would show you  _all_  my cards now, did you?"

"No. I thought you would say why you are so interested in a fifteen year old boy who has nothing to offer to you."

"I wouldn't call visions as nothing," Simon tutted, then gave a nod. "But you're right. Tomas is different."

"What, is his 'aura' glowing the wrong color for you?" Marcus asked, the aura heavily hyphenated.

"One can say he 'has no aura'," Simon spoke and Marcus blinked, taken aback.

"I don't understand. How can he not have any?" From Tomas's words Marcus knew that even possessed people had auras. It was the presentation of the soul. And Tomas couldn't be without a soul, Marcus wouldn't believe that even for a second. His confusion seemed to entertain Simon greatly, because he chuckled.

"Now isn't that interesting?"

"I don't believe you. There must be... something. Maybe... maybe it's just too shiny for you to see."

"Oh, something is there, definitely. But shiny?" Simon shook his head. "Would you call a black hole shiny, Maria?" Simon asked with a provocatively raised eyebrow, though he didn't turn back to the woman, his eyes stuck on Marcus, visibly enjoying this game.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Marcus finally snapped, having enough of the game. "Black hole? You're not making any sense."

"Am I not? You know what I see when I look at your precious 'chosen' boy over here?"

There was a dramatic pause, for Marcus to ask the question, but he stayed silent. Simon didn't mind. He pointedly looked at Tomas's slumped form.

"I see a black hole. Darkness without light that is sucking in everything that comes too close. Even now... as close as you are, I can see him sucking up your light. Or my darkness. Who knows where it all goes? Not me. Maybe not even Tomas. But we will find out soon enough. Once Tomas awakens, he shall become acquainted with one of your old friends. We can only take a guess which one. Maybe  _Baptist_?" Simon chuckled and stepped back as Marcus lunged forward, a curse on his lips. When it didn't help, he turned to God, reciting the rite of exorcism. Simon barely flinched, but there was a snarled 'Shut him up someone' and a moment later Marcus found himself sporting a gag made of some dirty cloth.

"Father Simon?" Maria Walters broke through the ensuing silence, looking both timid as well as afraid. Simon turned towards her, for a moment ignoring Marcus and his words muted by the gag.

„What?!" he snapped and Maria winced, but didn't step back.

"His sister... we don't have that much time. He should get home before morning, or she'll inform the police and they will come after me-" she babbled and Simon waved his hand.

"Since when are the police a problem?" Simon almost laughed and Maria blushed. "He's just a poor Mexican teenager who had a fight with his sister and decided to run away. Do you really think anyone would give a shit about his whereabouts?" Simon raised an eyebrow then his face hardened. "Or are you disagreeing with my current actions?"

Even Marcus, tied up several feet away could feel the sudden chill in the room. Simon's voice was one of challenge and Marcus expected Maria to cover or to fall to her knees and start begging, but she did neither. Instead she seemed to square her shoulders and lift her head.

"Yes."

That seemed to surprise as well as amuse Simon.

"Oh. How so?" he crossed his arms and gave her a predatory smirk. Maria shot a look at Marcus and Tomas. Marcus was a bit shocked that he saw no remorse at all. He felt coldness run through his veins. Her concern wasn't about kidnapping and possibly killing a child and an ex-priest. No, her concerns, as it appeared, were only for her own self.

"That... the dust. It's the last one and you promised... you promised I'll get a chance. I helped you coordinate the attack, to pick the families. I'm doing all I can at that stupid school to get us the best of the best, yet you are still pushing me aside!" the last was shouted then the room fell into silence. A silence which was broken by laughter.

"Oh Maria, did you really think I would waste the powder on  _you?_  Right now? Why?"

This time Maria took a step back, looking like Simon slapped her.

"I need you to do your job, nothing else. Maybe in the future, when I won't have a use for pretty face and brains I will let you become one of us. But you need to earn that privilege," Simon's lips curled into a smirk and Marcus would have been interested in Maria's reaction, had he not caught a small movement in his peripheral vision. His head snapped to the right, eyes going wide. It looked like Tomas was finally waking up.


	14. Chapter 14

His head hurt and he was cold. Too cold for it to be natural seeing as it was nearly summer and Chicago was hit with a heat wave. No, this cold wasn't brought on by the weather but something else. Tomas could feel it crawling all around him, like a damp fog, dragging the heat out of his body. It was a feeling that was familiar but he couldn't place it, not just yet. Tomas knew he should open his eyes and figure out what was going on, but frankly he was just too scared to be caught in one of his nightmarish visions. Instead, he focused on the dark of his eyelids and tried to get some feeling back into his body, trying to ignore the cold. He could feel the goose bumps on his skin, on his bare arms. He could feel the headache, but it was different than the ones he got after visions. This was more fresh, more open, pulsating and stinging. Like an open wound on his temple... which would also explain the feeling of something warm trickling down his left cheek.

Probably the only warm thing he felt at the moment and it had to be his own blood. Tomas almost snorted at the irony but he stopped himself. He knew it was panic playing with his mind just as he knew that he wasn't alone. No, he could hear voices, could hear someone's ragged breathing, a chuckle that sent shivers down his spine. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a woman's voice angrily shouting and he recognized Maria Walters. For some reason there was no trace of the collected woman, only annoyance and maybe a bit of panic too. She was quickly silenced though with a scathe retort and Tomas heard a pair of heels clicking on the stone floor, leaving.

This wasn't good and Tomas knew that this was no vision. He knew he was sitting in a chair and didn't want to let on he was awake. Something in him warned him that would just bring pain that much faster. Despite that, his hands instinctively flexed against the arm rest and he felt the rope digging into skin, rubbing it raw.

What the hell happened?

He had to fight down his panic and keep his breathing even, though it seemed like an inhuman task. Last thing he remembered was being home... with Marcus...

Tomas couldn't help the gasp that escaped him as the memories hit him, just like the butt of that gun.

"Ah, our guest of honor is finally awake," a voice that he only ever heard in nightmares spoke, so close Tomas gave up his pretense totally. His eyes snapped open and he pulled back. The chair he was tied to rocked slightly and the world went wobbly as Tomas whipped his head around, taking in his surroundings. He caught sight of father Simon, the man was truly hard to miss, smirking at him from only several feet, arms folded and looking like a cat that ate the canary. Tomas saw the blackness he was shrouded in and felt a surge of nausea. What made his head swim and make him see black spots on the edge of his vision was the sight of Marcus Keane, tied to a chair just like himself. The only difference was that Marcus's face and upper body was marred with fresh bruises and splotches of blood. Blood was also soaking through the ropes around his wrists and ankles as he was struggling against the bonds. The sound Tomas thought was ragged breathing was in fact a guttural growl muffled by a dirty piece of cloth stuffed in Marcus's mouth.

Tomas swallowed, tasting bile and closed his eyes for a moment, until he heard a noise that sounded like Marcus calling his name in fear, only muffled by the gag.

„Marcus?" he asked, looking at the older man and their eyes connected for a moment, a silent communication passing between them.

_'Are you okay? Will we survive this?'_

Marcus gave a nod, the look in his eyes fierce and dangerous. He was livid and Tomas could see that, he could see the golden color swirling angrily, a hint of dark orange on the edges and white... pulsating white just where Marcus's heart should be. And Tomas recognized it for what it was... protectiveness, love and fear. Fear over what was going to happen to them.

Swallowing hard, Tomas saw the question in Marcus's eyes, imploring about his own well being. Tomas gave a shaky nod as well, but had to look away. The blue eyes were boring too deep into his soul and Tomas couldn't stand the worry when all he felt was guilt for dragging the man into this mess.

"Ah, how sweet. You two actually care about each other... how curious. An exorcist and a little bastard, just begging to be taken by one of our demon brothers!" Father Simon clapped his hands in obvious enjoyment. The two men that stood on the side smirked, though there was no humor in their eyes, only dark emptiness. They were as good as puppets, except they both had guns on them. _What did demons need guns for?_ Tomas thought confusedly then winced. Marcus next to him just managed to work the gag out of his mouth, a thin line of blood trickling down the corner of his mouth.

"You piece of shit, let the kid go!" Marcus spat out and one of the men stepped forward. Marcus's head jerked back and Tomas winced at the resounding slap.

"Shut your mouth, priest," the man hissed and was about to return the gag, when father Simon raised his hand to stop him.

"No, leave it, Russell. All the better to hear his screams, am I right, Tomas?" Simon didn't even look at Marcus, his eyes were glued to Tomas. Tomas shivered, seeing the darkness reaching towards him almost physically. He wasn't close enough and Simon didn't step closer, thank God for that, but Tomas still felt dirty. It must've shown on his face as Simon pouted.

"Aw, what's the matter, cub? You aren't enjoying my company?" Feigning offense, Simon put a hand over his chest, as if he was physically hurt. "But darling, we haven't even met properly. Why don't I introduce myself. Father Simon, at your service." The man gave a small nod and a toothy grin, then pulled up a chair and sat down on it. "Those two are my henchmen, so really no need for you to know their names."

"The Lord will sort them out when we finish here," Marcus growled and Tomas felt a bit of courage returning. If Marcus didn't show fear, he wouldn't either. Squaring his shoulders he looked right at Simon.

"What do you want from us?" he asked, ignoring the hiss of his name from Marcus.

"Ah, the kids these days, so impatient," Simon chuckled, his head inclined in a gesture of 'am I right?' as he looked at Marcus. "But alas, straight to the point. I must admire that. You have guts. We shall see where it will lead you."

Tomas gritted his teeth. Father Simon was grating on his nerves like only few did before. He wanted to snap back, to send him to hell but Tomas had a feeling that's exactly where Simon came from. He wanted to demand they were let go, to shout and scream and throw a tantrum like a two year old not getting his favorite candy, but Tomas was painfully aware that the 'sunny' disposition of the man was just a farce. He saw underneath the skin, beyond the cold stare and what he saw scared him half to death. Not just for himself and Marcus, but also for his sister and Peter. Because he was sure that when their bodies will be found, it won't be a pretty picture.

"You demons, never can stop that incessant babbling," Marcus spoke with annoyance clear in his voice and Tomas blinked. One of the men stepped closer and the smirk on his face was enough for Tomas to know he wanted to hit Marcus again. What was he doing? Did he want to end up a punching bag? What for?

"As if you exorcists are any better. It's all _ritual and repetition._ I'm curious, 'man of God', where did it get you? Ah, I know. Into St. Aquinas, crying over your own incompetence, while Baptist is still enjoying playing with little Gabriel-"

Marcus lunged forward, almost toppling over his chair. One of the armed man stepped behind him and Tomas saw a glint of silver before Marcus's swearing changed into a guttural growl as a knife was put against his neck.

"Stop it!" Tomas shouted, both at the man and at Marcus who seemed hell bent on being the center of attention, not caring if it brought him more injuries or not. And Tomas understood what he was doing right then... trying to keep the attention away from him as long as possible, to keep him safe. While Tomas appreciated the gesture, he knew it was useless. At this point he was just too tired to prolong their suffering. What was the point anyway? It wasn't like anyone would come barging in and save the day. He didn't see how anyone could find them in time. And watching Marcus getting hurt was almost as physically painful as receiving the wounds himself.

"Tomas, just-" Marcus started, trying to tell him to shut up, to bide his time, but Tomas couldn't.

"No. That's enough. I... I just want to know what the hell's going on." Tomas said, making sure his voice wasn't shaking at the sight of the knife touching Marcus's skin, a small trickle of blood from a nick on his neck trickling down to his shirt. With a much more bravado than he felt, Tomas turned a pointed look at Simon.

"What do you want from us?" he repeated his question.

Simon raised an eyebrow, a smirk making his face look even less appealing.

"I think I might actually like you, cub. So straightforward, not losing time with idle chit chat. Well then. What do I want, hm?" Simon stood up and walked right into Tomas's personal space, so close their knees almost bumped, but he didn't reach out, didn't touch him. For a moment Tomas thought he would, Simon's hand reached out as if to grab his face, but the move changed as Simon's eyes glinted with something unrecognizable and he ended with his hand under his chin, in a mocking gesture of thinking. Tomas cringed at the closeness, he could feel the man's darkness reaching out and for Tomas it was like an ice pick just reached into his soul. He took in a gasping breath, but as fast as the ice touched him it recoiled as if in disgust. Tomas blinked, confused. It was a strange feeling, one that Simon must've been aware too, because he made sure not touch Tomas physically. Tomas didn't complain.

"I want you to say yes. It's that simple."

"Yes to what?" Tomas asked, truly confused, while Marcus gave a sound of protest, which was quickly silenced by the pressure of the blade on his windpipe.

"Oh, you know. Just the usual spiel about selling your soul for wealth, health, love, a new I-pod... or whatever other nonsense you youngsters enjoy these days."

Tomas almost spluttered. First at being lumped into a bag with all the youngsters, second at the idea of selling his soul.

"Are you serious?" he asked, clearly in disbelief. Simon rolled his eyes.

"No, not really. See... that is all just a bunch of crap. No. What I want is for you to say yes and accept one of us. What I want is for you to finally embrace that darkness that dwells deep inside and start using the gift you have for its true purpose."

Tomas listened to those words and felt physically ill. He shook his head, face pale and despite the coldness he could feel the sweat dripping down his face, mixed with the blood from the head wound.

"No... that's... that's not what it is for. I'm not... there's no darkness." Tomas protested and he was expecting to get arguments or even an angry lash out. What he didn't expect was the laughter. Father Simon was laughing and it looked like he was truly enjoying himself, rubbing dramatically at his eyes as if he was brushing away tears.

"Did you hear that boys? Tomas here thinks there's no darkness in him. Have you ever heard something so ridiculous?"

The two henchmen probably had, or either they didn't care, because they didn't start laughing, though there were smirks on their faces. Tomas didn't know what to think. He didn't dare turn and look at Marcus in fear the man would believe the words. The thought of seeing disappointment or worse, disgust in Marcus's face was something Tomas couldn't cope with. He shook his head.

"That's not true. My gift... it's from God. Not from you. I don't hurt people... I don't kill them."

Simon stopped laughing and sat back on his chair, but the smile didn't leave his face, it only changed into a cold grimace.

"Do you truly believe that gift is from God?"

Tomas gave a shaky nod and Simon quirked an eyebrow.

"Really. Would a gift from God cause your own mother to hate you?"

Tomas jerked as if Simon had slapped him. His eyes went wide and his breath hitched.

"What?"

"Tomas-" Marcus tried to warn him, but Tomas didn't listen. His mind was already supplying him with thoughts and images... memories.

"Do you remember why she sent you away?" Simon taunted and at that moment a long forgotten memory popped up, one that Tomas managed to repress for so many years.

_Tomas was six years old and he just returned home from the hospital. It was scary there, all the strange people, all the doctors and nurses poking him with needles. Tomas hated needles, even more than he hated being left alone in small places. Yet the first memory he had of the hospital was waking up being strapped down to a bed inside a humming machine that just made his headache hundred times worse. The fact his mum was there when he came out, crying, was only a small comfort. Because he saw the look on her face, felt her cold hands in his and even though she gave him a hug, the warmth was gone. At the time Tomas was too scared and confused to realize what it meant and the number of strangers around him was too much to handle, so he tuned it all out, hoping that once he got home, his mum would be back to her normal self, that the light he used to see in her eyes when she looked at him would return._

_But it didn't. Tomas was home for almost a week. Home but not really. His dad was gone, his mum was acting strange and Olivia... Olivia seemed to be scared of him._

_Tomas couldn't sleep that night. His stomach was all wonky and there was the pressure in his head that he knew meant more bad dreams, more pain. He slipped out of his bed softly and patted barefooted into the small kitchen, making sure he missed all the creaky floorboards and didn't disturb his sister. He and Olivia shared a room, even though Olivia was starting to complain about it all the time. But there was no other empty room to use. Maybe now that daddy left Olivia could share a room with mom if she minded Tomas's company that much, Tomas thought bitterly as he opened the fridge and stood on his toes, trying to reach a box of juice. He was thirsty and too hot. Maybe something cold would calm him down, chase away the bad dreams._

_"What are you doing?"_

_The voice startled him and Tomas almost dropped the juice, feeling his heartbeat increase._

_"M-mom?" he squeaked out. "I was thirsty," he said almost fearfully and she must've noticed, because there was a sigh and a light was turned on. Tomas could see his mother, dark circles under her eyes, still in her work clothes. She stood by the light switch, but it was apparent she must've fallen asleep at the desk that was littered with mail and papers. Tomas didn't know it were bills but he recognized the red on some of the mail and knew it meant trouble._

_"Did you have a bad dream?" she asked and walked towards Tomas, her hand reaching out and brushing the hair from his forehead. Tomas blinked and leaned into that touch, because it was the first time in two weeks he felt the warmth. Albeit tentative, it was there and Tomas couldn't help but burrow into his mother's embrace. "Whoa, chico. Are you feeling okay?" she asked and the genuine worry in her voice caused tears to pop into Tomas's eyes._

_"Yes, mom. I'm sorry-" he muttered, over and over again until she knelt down with a frown on her face._

_"What are you apologizing for?"_

_Tomas didn't know. He wanted to say it was for messing up, for being sick, for driving dad away. It was for all the things he didn't understand, but most of all, it was for the oncoming feeling of a dream that filled him with dread. As if something dark seeped through the floorboards of their home, up his legs, squeezing his heart, until he couldn't help the gasp that escaped him. With that rush of breath, the darkness moved upwards, sinking its claws into his young brain, past any barriers he could've built and ripping them to shreds._

_The world for Tomas vanished in a pool of red. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a woman's scream, screeching of the tires and a dull thud then a crush of bones. Somewhere in the distance, he could feel his own mouth opening but a stranger's voice speaking words of truth. He heard the voice describing every detail of the hazy scene in bloody gore, he heard the voice, low and screechy, tell his mother the time and place of her own death._

_Tomas couldn't stop it. All he could do was scream and try to push that voice away. There was a ripple, a feeling that his brain was crushing itself and something tore out from him. Tomas collapsed to the ground, weeping salty tears and rubbing at his bloody nose. He blinked open his eyes and reached up towards his mother in despair, needing her to hold him, to tell him it was all over, that he was safe. But his mother was kneeling there, eyes wide and empty as she stared at him, without love, without recognition. There was only one emotion and Tomas closed his eyes and curled up on himself, knowing his mother would never love him again._

"You remember how she looked at you, don't you? With fear," Simon teased, bringing Tomas back to the present.

„She never 'got over it'. Because she was scared of what you told her, of what you were! Just like everyone else is scared now. And they are right to be, Tomas."

Tomas couldn't argue. The pain of the memory was too fresh on his mind and for a moment his mother's face transformed into Olivia's and Tomas couldn't stop the choked sob. Father Simon didn't seem to notice or rather he enjoyed the sound as he kept talking.

"You are someone to be feared. Even Marcus here is terrified of who you are, or who you can become!"

"Don't listen to him, Tomas. He's lying!" Marcus shouted before he was silenced by the blade and Simon's tutting.

"Shush, Marcus. Let the chosen ones speak."

Simon put an emphasis on the words _chosen ones_ and it made Tomas's skin crawl, to be lumped in anything with the likes of this demon.

"You think yourself pure, Tomas, yet here you are; the anger and hate just seeping out of you."

"The only one I hate is you," Tomas spat and Simon chuckled.

"Ah, no. See, just like you can reach out to us, we can reach out to you. And trust me, Tomas, we saw deep inside your wicked little soul. All the delightful feelings of betrayal festering there since the first time your dear father looked at you and called you a _freak_."

Tomas's head snapped back as if he was just hit. Was it true? Was it really his father who first called him that? He couldn't recall, but then, there were so many things he chose to forget. Simon knew that of course, and as demons were due, he looked straight into Tomas's soul and dug out the deepest fears and secrets, pulling them to the surface torturously, one by one.

"Just admit it, Tomas. You hated her for what your mother had done."

"She didn't do anything," Tomas shook his head in desperation, trying to ignore the man in front of him and instead focus on Marcus, who was struggling in his chair, grunting and rubbing his wrists raw in the attempt to escape, but to no avail. Tomas couldn't look him in the eyes, for his own shame was overwhelming and Simon kept talking, bringing all the things he never wanted to admit to the surface.

"She didn't stand up for you when your father screamed at you in disgust. The way she looked at you after that night? When you told her the truth. Do you remember, Tomas?"

"She never touched me again," Tomas whispered, knowing well it was the moment he really lost his mother, not nine years later when the car hit her. No, it was in the kitchen of their home, innocuously and unexpectedly, when a demon took hold of him long enough to rip his mother's love away. Tomas couldn't take this.

"Stop this. Just... stop."

Simon laughed.

"But we barely even started, dear boy. See... that night was just the beginning. It planted the seed of hatred in your heart and it grew with every empty look from your mother. When she sent you away, it must've been almost a relief, wasn't it?"

Tomas shook his head, but inside he knew Simon was right. Leaving Chicago was a relief. Despite feeling hurt and scared to go to a strange country alone, Tomas was more scared of his own mother, of the thing she was becoming when he was nearby.

"And then, when you finally settled down, found friends, started to feel _normal,_ your poor Abuela gets sick. And what does your mother do? Instead of staying by her mother's side while she died, she dragged you back to Chicago. Leaving the woman who took care of you for most of your life to die alone in agony." Simon tutted and shook his head, a grimace of false empathy on his face.

Tomas could feel his blood boiling.

"That's not true. She died peacefully... at the hospital. I couldn't stay there... they wouldn't let me!" Even as Tomas shouted these words he knew they weren't true. He knew Simon was right, that his mother took him away for whatever reason, he didn't know. All he knew was that ever since there was something cold in the pit of his stomach, the same coldness that didn't let him mourn the death of his own mother. Somewhere in the back of his mind was the fleeting thought that the coldness wasn't his own doing but maybe something that sneaked inside during one of those visions and found itself a nice and comfy place. But the thought didn't make it to the surface as the only thing Tomas could focus on was father Simon and his poisonous words slithering towards him.

"You are harboring so much disdain, Tomas," Simon said, then took an exaggerated sniff. "I can smell it on you. Do you really think God would choose you as his Vessel? Something so useless, inconsequential... faulted? Do you really think God was the one giving you this power? Why would he even stain his presence with something so dirty, useless... with such a freak?"

Each word cut deeper and deeper into Tomas, until he felt like his soul would bleed out. His arms were rubbing angrily against the ropes, unconscious of the blood seeping through them, the St. Benedict medal digging into his skin and the ropes, but Tomas didn't notice that. For a second Tomas just wanted to feel pain that was purely physical, instead of the one that was gnawing at his insides.

"Shut the fuck up!" Marcus screamed. "That's not true Tomas, you know it's not! He's lying! God loves you, he gave you a gift, don't let this snake delude you!"

Tomas blinked, suddenly unsure. Was it really true? Did God love him? He was battling with that thought for a while now; ever since the murder of those families he witnessed first sight. Why would God show him that? For what purpose? Tomas felt himself being pulled into the darkness but a sudden shout from one of the men pulled him out of it. Marcus had somehow managed to head butt the man holding him at knife point in the nose and it was now spurting blood. Marcus's triumph however was only momentary.

"Enough!" Simon seemed to grow tired of the charade and nodded towards his other henchman. He vanished behind the door and returned with a familiar looking urn. Simon stood from his chair and moved it in front of Marcus and Tomas, who were both eyeing it warily, both knowing its content.

"As joyful as this little meeting is, I need to get some beauty sleep. Russell, be a dear, show father Keane it's not nice hurting your hosts."

As if just waiting for that command, Russell, the one that was now sporting a bloody nose, gave Marcus a crooked grin, then he brought down the knife and buried its edge in Marcus's forearm.

Marcus's pained grunt as the blade was moved up from wrist towards his elbow was drowned only by Tomas's own scream. He trashed on the chair until it wobbled, but to no avail.

"Stop it! Stop it you bastard! What... what do you want from me?" Tomas choked out, watching as the blood dripped from the deep wound on Marcus's arm.

"That's easy. Say yes. Accept us, come to our side or perish. I don't care. But either way, Tomas Ortega as the world knows him won't leave this room."

Tomas looked at Marcus who was gritting his teeth, holding back a cry of pain, but unwilling to let it out.

"No, I can't-" Tomas started and saw the almost imperceptible nod Simon gave Russell just before the man moved the knife and positioned it on Marcus's other arm, ready to burrow it deep in the skin.

"Tick tock," Simon said and Tomas saw red. He felt a surge of energy and more pain in his own arm as he tugged fervently. Tomas didn't even note when his arm managed to slip from under the rope slick with blood, chaffing skin on the way. He didn't care. The only thing he knew was that he wouldn't let anyone hurt Marcus. With an angry cry, Tomas reached out with his suddenly free hand and grasped at the first thing within reach, which in this case was Russell's leg.

For a second nothing happened... they were both staring at each other as if frozen. Then the knife suddenly clattered to the ground. Tomas's eyes rolled back into his head, the brown pupils replaced by an unnatural white film. Russell's body went still, his muscles taunt as his own eyes turned white.

"What the hell?" Simon uttered, his other henchman taking a step closer as well, but far enough to stay at a safe distance. Marcus, feeling the blood slowly seeping out of him, blinked and unconsciously repeated Simon's words.

'What the hell?'

For a moment, nothing happened. Tomas was half leaning out of the chair, his hand having a death grip on the other man's leg. There was a slight shiver running through both bodies and Marcus could hear shallow breathing and something that sounded like Spanish coming from Tomas's locked lips. He couldn't understand, couldn't even read the lips, the sound was barely perceptible as it was.

"Russell!" Simon called and stepped closer, then his eyes widened and he took several steps back, far out of Tomas's reach. For a second Marcus could've sworn he saw genuine fear in the demon's eyes, but he quickly scolded his features.

"Tomas?" Marcus tried, not sure he wanted to interrupt whatever was going on, but he didn't like to see Tomas this way. Hated not knowing what was going on in his head right now or how to help him.


	15. Chapter 15

This wasn't his plan. Well, to be fair, the moment Tomas reached out there was no plan at all, maybe just pull attention away from Marcus. His mind was screaming to do something, to stop the torture and so he forced his arm out of the ropes and clutched at 'Russell'. In that instant the room they were in vanished. Tomas saw a fleeting and rather foggy image of a young man hiding in the closet while there was screaming and sound of gunshots coming from the outside. Tomas knew if he really wanted to, if he had the time, he could maybe coax that young man out, maybe convince him to stop doing what he did, to repent for all the bad he allowed to happen when the demon entered his body. But Tomas didn't have the time, the patience or will. All he could see was the blood dripping from Marcus's arms, all he could feel was darkness all around. It wasn't a conscious thought, it was pure instinct fuelled by fear and rage.

_"Stop! Get out! Get OUT!"_ he screamed inside his mind and it was as if someone waved a magic wand. The pictures in his head vanished in a white fog. There was pressure behind his eyes, his ears felt stuffed, as if he was deep under water, but when he opened his eyes he was back in the room with father Simon, one of the henchman and Marcus. Russell... well, Russell was laying on the ground, unseeing eyes open wide, a trickle of saliva running down the side of his face. His legs and arms moved jerkily and he was breathing, but Tomas could tell that was about all the man was good for anymore.

"How..." father Simon stuttered and it was the first time Tomas saw true apprehension on his face. It gave him hope, even if it was only momentary.

"You alright? Tomas?" Marcus asked looking at him dazedly and with something Tomas hoped was just surprise and not disgust.

"Y-yeah," he mouthed, his eyes moving towards the still twitching man on the floor. Tomas swallowed, trying not to think that maybe he just killed someone. He looked back at Marcus, at the blood on his arms... Tomas's eyes followed the drops and saw the small puddle by the chair's leg, just as his eyes landed on the discarded knife.

The knife was easily within his reach and his left arm was free. All he needed was to lean over quickly and grab it. If he could take it and cover Marcus, maybe the two demons would be too scared to approach him after what happened to Russell. Maybe it could give them a chance to escape...

Tomas was right in one thing. The other two men in the room weren't willing to get within reaching distance of him, but really, that meant nothing. Father Simon could see the knife just as well as Tomas and put together what was his plan even before Tomas started to move.

"If he moves, shoot him!" Simon barked at the same time as Marcus shouted "No!" at Tomas, knowing how foolish an attempt that would be.

Tomas froze. He might've risked a scuffle with a knife, counting on the fact neither man wanted to touch him. But a bullet was something else. Tomas swallowed, his eyes burning with tears of anger over the whole situation, the fact Marcus was slowly bleeding out and there was a man he might've just killed.

"What the hell did you just do?" Father Simon asked, his voice losing all the teasing quality. It was obvious the demon was done playing games. There was only seething fury and a darkness that was almost sparking from pent up energy. Tomas knew Simon wanted to come closer, his darkness reaching out towards Tomas fervently, but every time he got too close it jerked back as if burned. Tomas didn't know if it was Marcus's presence or his own aura... to be fair, Tomas never saw his own colors, however hard he looked. There was nothing for him to see and he supposed even the demon was somehow scared by that.

"Answer me!" Father Simon bellowed, jerking Tomas from his swirling thoughts.

"I sent him back where he belongs," Tomas said with more courage than he really felt.

"That's not possible. You're just a scummy little bastard, a freak, nothing else." Father Simon said, trying to appear unaffected, but the spit flying from his mouth was proof to the contrary. Tomas would have smirked if their situation wasn't so dreadful. He gave a short look at Marcus, feeling both relief at catching him still conscious with eyes spitting fire, as well as deep regret upon the pain that was clear in the heavy breathing and the bulging veins on the man's neck. Tomas couldn't help but feel responsible and helpless.

"If I'm such a freak, why don't you just let us go?" Tomas turned back to Simon, ignoring Marcus's muttered curse and his pleas to just shut the hell up.

"Because you're a pain in the ass. All you God touched people... you're good only for one thing. To show Him how badly He chose!" Father Simon spat and a dangerous smirk appeared on his face. "Oh, how I love to show Him the middle finger. And there's no better way to do it than give up your precious soul."

With a jerk of his head, Simon nodded towards Marcus, a resolution clear on his face. He stepped towards the urn, taking off the cover. He reached in almost reverently; grabbing a handful of ash, then threw it up in the air, muttering _'Vocare Pulvere'_.

"Enough of this game. You have 15 seconds to decide, Tomas. Give up and say yes, or Marcus Keane will get a bullet straight between eyes. Time is ticking." As if to drive his point home, father Simon made a ticking sound and laughed.

Tomas didn't hear him. His eyes followed the ash that formed a cloud above them, moving fluidly yet unsure. Tomas's eyes were wide as he saw the colors glinting through the blackness... deep red and orange, shades of violet he has never seen. All angry and dangerous and promising pain, so much pain. He followed the trajectory of the cloud - of the _entity_ that was hiding inside it, hungry and ready to devour a soul... _his soul_.

Somewhere in the distance he could hear Marcus screaming, calling his name, begging him not to do it. As if in slow motion Tomas saw the henchman point his gun at Marcus, a vile grin on his face, but the finger wasn't pressing the trigger, not yet. Father Simon was laughing, the sound sending shivers of sickness down Tomas's spine as distorted as it sounded.

He finally looked at Marcus, at the fear in his eyes, the despair. It was the same look he had when Gabriel's neck snapped and Tomas hated himself for being the cause of it now. But he also saw the entity moving towards Marcus, the darkness licking at the gold light that was slowly fading as the blood was dripping from his wounds. Time stopped to have meaning; the 15 seconds could've just as well been 15 hours. Tomas blinked and Marcus's mouth barely moved. He couldn't let it happen. Not the bullet, not the demon getting hold of something so pure as Marcus. Tomas couldn't have lived with himself, not when he knew there was a way to stop it. After all, what did he have to lose? Olivia would be devastated but at the same time it would give her back her freedom. She could take care of herself easily without the burden of Tomas. It wasn't like there was a bright future in front of him, not one he could envision this moment. And Marcus... he knew so much. He could do so much good still and he would be missed. If Marcus succumbed, Peter would be devastated as well. No, there was really not much of a choice, not for Tomas. His path was clear and for the first time in his life Tomas was okay with it. Not happy, maybe resigned, but the weight was off his shoulder. Maybe all this would finally end.

Marcus must've seen the decision on his face, because he strengthened his struggle, making his chair almost topple over in his haste to reach the knife on the floor. He obviously didn't care for the gun pointed at his head.

Tomas reached out with his free hand and touched the struggling man, who froze, eyes wide and desperate.

"Tomas, don't please-" Marcus choked out. Tomas gave him a sad smile, sort of a 'what can you do'?

"Tell Liv I'm sorry," he said, squeezing Marcus's arm.

"You can't, Tomas! Don't do this!"

Tomas swallowed.

"I don't want to. But there's no choice. Maybe... bring me back?" he added, just the smallest of hope in his voice as he thought about all the cases Marcus helped, all the people he saved from possession. Maybe if they won't both get killed today, maybe he could save him too.

Marcus's eyes widened and he shook his head in terror.

"No, this is different, Tomas! Please, listen to me!"

But Tomas had already decided. He could see the demon was getting hungry and when Marcus looked up at it and said: "Take me!" he knew there was no choice at all.

"No!" Tomas roared even as he saw the demon heading towards Marcus, the cloud shuddering in anticipation. "You want me, so come get me! Come on, you bastard! I can hear you whispering, I can feel your hunger. Take me!"

There must've been something appealing about Tomas. Maybe it was the fact that Marcus was weak from blood loss, maybe the fact he was touched by God and the demon still didn't like that. Or maybe it was just Tomas's own soul calling out for the darkness, burning hot like a flame luring in the moth.

Whatever the reason, the entity changed its track and without a pause plunged itself towards Tomas. The last thing he heard was Marcus's cry and the cackling laughter of father Simon. For a second there was a roar in his ears as if he was plunged under water with his heart beating a marathon. Something black and vile covered his mouth and nose and rushed inside, forcing all the air out of his lungs, out of his body. Tomas's eyes rolled back in his head and the outside world stopped existing. The only thing he was aware of was pain and terror, a millisecond of realization that he made a mistake, that this was much worse than anything he could imagine and then he was thrown into his own personal hell. For that moment, Tomas Ortega stopped existing. There was nothing. Not a name, not a memory, just pain.

 


	16. Chapter 16

Marcus watched in horror as the darkness soaked into Tomas. The boy's body went taunt and rigid, his face morphing into a grimace of suffering akin to that seen on drawings from Dante's hell. Marcus felt his own soul splinter in two.

He failed and another child paid the price. For a second Marcus was so lost in his own guilt and terror that he didn't hear the sounds until there was a shot, followed by another. Marcus jerked, expecting darkness to claim him, expecting more pain as he was sure the bullet was meant for him. But there was no contact, nothing to free him from his anguish. There was a lot of movement however and when Marcus heard a familiar voice call his name, he blinked and tore his sight away from Tomas. A flicker of hope.

Peter was there, rushing towards him and pausing minutely upon spotting Tomas and the thing that was hanging over him. Next to him was a man Marcus knew from St. Aquinas. A priest like himself, yet now he wasn't donning a collar but plain black clothing. Behind them was another man Marcus never saw, but he had a gun and there was a badge on his belt. Possibly a cop, Marcus thought fleetingly as the man knocked out father Simon with one swift move. The henchman that was supposed to serve as Marcus' executioner now lay on the ground, dead himself.

But none of that mattered, because Tomas said yes and now he was sitting on that blasted chair, arms bloody from his struggles, blood still seeping sluggishly from the head wound. His mouth was wide open as if in a silent scream as a dark cloud was forcing its way inside, killing everything Tomas was.

It was such a macabre image that everyone came to a still.

"Oh my God," someone said into the silence.

"That's not God," Marcus breathed out and no one argued with that.

* * *

Peter thanked God and his friend Luke for the idea of planting the locator in Marcus's boots. He would've given one to Tomas as well but the kid probably had way more clothing articles, whereas Marcus wore just that one pair of shoes. Because everyone knew cell phones could be located, it was also the first thing every kidnapper got rid of. Shoes, not so much. It was only a matter of time to find Marcus's location - a supposedly empty warehouse on the outskirts of the town.

What took longer was to get hold of a team, because Peter wasn't crazy enough to do it alone. Not for fear for his own health, but he was aware how easily he could mess up and it never hurt to have backup. So he waited almost an hour for Jim and Luke to arrive. He would have called his old team mate as well who was in special ops, but the man was once again deployed. So it was just the three of them, against who knew how much. Not to mention the small detail some of their opponents might've been just a bit possessed.

It took them another hour to stake the location and figure out how many people they were dealing with and how best to approach the scene without risking being found out. When finally they saw Maria Walters leaving the scene with two other men, they approached the warehouse. They encountered only one man guarding the entry and Luke took care of that easily. Thanks to the locator they could pinpoint the position of the hostages to several meters, though by the time they made it inside the warehouse it wasn't a question of whether they'll find them, but if it'll be in time.

Peter heard a familiar voice screaming out in pain and anguish. He felt a chill run down his spine as if someone just walked over his grave. Peter never thought he would hear Marcus scream that way. There were moments when Marcus let out a scream during a nightmare and that had been filled with anguish as well, but it was dull, guarded.

This was raw and Peter didn't pause to think, he simply ran. The first thing he saw was the back of a man, pointing a gun at Marcus. Marcus, who was bleeding, tied to a chair and sobbing. Peter felt such a rush of anger that the man in front of him didn't have a chance. One second Peter was in the door, eyes widening at the scene, the next he was standing over the body of the man that was previously pointing a gun at his partner. Peter didn't even remember pulling the trigger of his own gun, though he must have. The man on the floor had two bullet holes in his back. What Peter remembered though was the man's finger curling around the trigger, ready to shoot Marcus right in the head. Peter felt no remorse for firing first.

He was somehow aware that Luke was right behind him and managed to tackle father Simon to the ground as well, rendering him barely conscious with a swift jab to the face. Jim stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes on the urn and on Tomas. Tomas, who was being attacked by something evil.

"Oh my God," Luke said and Peter realized this was the first time his old friend really believed in the whole thing about demons.

"That's not God," Marcus spoke and his voice, the deadness of it, pulled Peter out of his stupor. He swallowed down the sickness he felt and rushed over to Marcus. His own hands were shaking when he took a look at the cuts on Marcus's arms, the puddle of blood under the chair and the dazed, half mad look on his lover's face.

"Marcus?" Peter took Marcus's face in his hands, hoping to see some sense of sanity. What he encountered instead was anger and fear so deep it cut through his own heart.

Next to him, the dark cloud completely vanished inside Tomas. The boy's body jerked and for a moment it looked like Tomas stopped breathing, as if life just disappeared out of him. But before anyone could react, Tomas's body jerked again and again. It wasn't stopping and Peter didn't know what to do, if there was anything to do.

"Untie me," Marcus said in a throaty whisper, pulling Peter's attention away from Tomas. Peter blinked.

"I need to stop the bleeding-" he muttered, pushing his hand against the cut on Marcus's arm, or at least tried to.

"Fucking untie me!" Marcus shouted and for a moment there was such a dangerous look in his eyes that Peter couldn't but oblige, his own bloodied hand fumbling for a knife on his belt holster and cutting through the ties quickly.

Marcus stumbled out of the chair and crashed to his knees in front of Tomas. The boy had stopped seizing; there was now only an occasional twitch of an appendage. His head was slumped on his chest which was rising in ragged, short breaths with increasing pauses. Peter didn't know what was happening to the boy but it was definitely not good. His skin, or what Peter could see of it, was covered in goose bumps and there was a constant low key shiver, a clear sign of a struggle going on.

Marcus let out a pained grunt as his own shaking hands reached up and took hold of Tomas's face. He fearfully lifted the head that gave no protest. Marcus's fingers pried open Tomas's eyes and he almost balked when he saw them covered in black. No white film, no second pupil... just darkness deeper than the hole in Marcus' chest.

At first there was no reaction at all. Tomas's eyes stayed open, black and unseeing. He didn't blink and the moment Marcus let go of his head, it fell back down on his chest. But Marcus could see he was breathing. He put his arms back on Tomas, one grabbing his left wrist, fingers curling around the bracelet with the medallion, the other laying his palm flat on Tomas's chest, straight over his heart. Marcus felt the tremors running through his body.

He didn't know what to do, how to help. There was really no guideline on how to bring back someone who was possibly integrated, who gave up their soul voluntarily during the ritual. But Marcus never relied just on traditional teachings of the church. It wasn't the Bible that saved souls, it was God's will. Marcus hoped there was a reason why God decided to make their paths cross. So he closed his eyes and started praying, his heart and soul begging for help.

Marcus was only distantly aware of another voice joining him in prayer. He would've been thankful but he had no capacity for that. Not when Tomas was shaking under his hands, not when God seemed to be taking his sweet time. Marcus wished to hear His voice, to feel the warmth coursing through his veins and soul just like when he was twelve years old. He wanted the reassurance that they weren't alone and desperately needed help. He couldn't let Tomas slip away like Gabriel.

_'Please God, don't let him die. Don't take him away from me,'_ Marcus begged, eyes squeezed shut, tears streaming down his face as he prayed, the rite of exorcism slipping from his tongue without thought. His hand squeezed the lifeless wrist, fingers on the pulse points, the medallion of St. Benedict pressing against his palm, warmer than usual against the cold skin. At first Marcus didn't notice it, his hand holding on tight, drawn to the slight pressure against skin, trying to ignore the feeling of blood and the rope burns just under his touch. He thought the warmth reaching his fingers was from the blood still seeping from the wounds of struggle, but soon it encompassed his own hand and penetrated under skin. Marcus blinked, the words of the rite almost freezing on his lips. Only years of practice let him continue, even though his focus was on the hand in his, on the medallion that suddenly felt too hot to touch. Marcus wanted to pull back his hand but realized he couldn't. It was as if he was glued to Tomas and he could feel the warmth travel up his arm, towards his chest and heart. Marcus took in a surprised breath then looked up.

Tomas's head was still downcast, but his eyes had slipped closed and there was movement under his eyelids, the muscles on his face twitching as if in the middle of a seizure. Before Marcus could react, the previously slumped form on the chair shot up, taunt and tense as the convulsions hit. It took all of Marcus's and Jim's strength to keep Tomas in the chair and not let him topple down and smack his head against the floor. Marcus shared a panicked look with Jim, heard the cop behind them curse and ask about an ambulance.

"Marcus?" Peter was standing right next to him, hand squeezing his shoulder in silent support. Marcus shook his head.

"Not yet," he grunted and continued reciting the rite. The man next to him pulled out a flask with holy water and sprinkled some on Tomas while Marcus kept his hold on Tomas's arm and chest, focusing on that strange feeling inside him, grasping at it as the last straw. It was like chasing a nice memory in a dim, stormy night. Seemingly impossible, but once he caught sight of it, he latched on and opened his mind to it.

The reaction was almost instantaneous. There was a flash of light inside Marcus's brain and for a moment he thought he went blind. The only thing he was aware of was the feeling of warmth and love being pulled out of him, but at the same time he was being filled with it as well from somewhere else. He didn't fight, just let everything pour in and out, feeling as if he was floating in a lake filled with sunshine. It could've lasted a second or a year, there was no sense of time and Marcus didn't care, he just was.

What brought him out of that state was one final pull, like a tug at his heart. For a moment it felt as if he was pulled under the surface and he opened his mouth in an attempt to take in his last breath.

Someone screamed, but it wasn't Marcus.

His eyes snapped open as Tomas's hand jerked out of his grasp. The movement sent Marcus toppling unceremoniously on his ass, the only thing stopping him from sprawling out was Peter's hand catching him halfway down.

Tomas, who was still on the damn chair, was now leaning over, seemingly doubled in pain. Another scream tore through his lips before he spasmed and dark, inky liquid surged out of his mouth. Tomas heaved, his head almost touching his knees, the black vomit splashing his trousers and the floor. The same dark matter was running out of his nose and ears and from his position on the floor Marcus could clearly see black tear tracks trailing down the boy's face.

Everyone fell silent, the only sound a short curse from Luke who was keeping at safe distance, one hand on his gun, the other holding down father Simon.

The sound of heaving turned into coughing. Still, no one moved. Tomas gave a pained sob and spit out the last of the darkness. The coughing was what broke through the stupor and Marcus scrambled back to his feet, eyes wide and full of hope as he gently touched the downcast head. All it took was a soft nudge and the sound of his name coming from Marcus's lips. Tomas raised his head and looked at Marcus with uncomprehending wide eyes. But they were his eyes. Bloodshot, teary and unfocused, but the most wonderful shade of brown Marcus had ever seen.

"Marcus?" Tomas whimpered before those brown eyes rolled back into head and his body slumped forward, finally succumbing to unconsciousness.

"Tomas? No! Tomas!" Marcus panicked and slapped Tomas's face insistently. Peter leaned over and put his fingers on Tomas's neck, checking his pulse. There was obvious relief on his face as he pulled his fingers back.

"He's alive, Marcus. He's alive!" Peter told Marcus, repeating it until the other man looked up at him, letting out a relieved sob. As if feeling the desperate need for confirmation, Tomas dragged in a choked breath himself and his eyes opened, half lidded.

Marcus could've cried with happiness in that moment but he didn't want to let the hope brush away his common sense. He put his hand back on Tomas's face in support as well as in an attempt to gain cooperation.

"Tell me your name!" Marcus pressed and after a moment of confusion, Tomas blinked.

"Tomas... Ortega. Are... are you okay?" Tomas asked, grimacing at the taste in his mouth. Marcus couldn't stop the laugh that broke through. His happiness though was quickly broken when he heard a familiar and unwelcome voice behind him stutter. Marcus spun around, his body unconsciously shielding Tomas.

"That's not possible," Simon said, shaking his head in disbelief, eyes with the double pupil wide.

Peter and Luke frowned, unsure what he meant. If whatever they saw entering Tomas was a demon, then logically Jim and Marcus did an exorcism and it worked. Why would that be so surprising?

Peter didn't get a chance to ponder that question. He saw Simon tilt his head, eyes never leaving Tomas's form. There was a growl, then Simon's eyes rolled back in his head, face turned upwards and his mouth opened. The same dark cloud that previously vanished in Tomas was now trying to escape the body. Peter took a step back and watched as Luke yelped in fright, letting go of Simon and leaped back into safe distance as well.

"Stop him!" Jim shouted and Peter blinked in confusion and in surprise, because the next moment Marcus was leaping forward to where the guard's gun lay discarded on the ground. All Peter saw was a blur of movement, saw the red streak of blood on Marcus's arm and the black cloud shooting out of Simon's mouth. Then there was a bang, then two more. Simon's body jerked as each bullet hit the target. There was an inhuman roar as the dark cloud paused as if frozen, then dissolved. Simon's body fell to the ground with a resounding thud.

"Marcus?" Peter spoke in choked whisper.

"We couldn't let him tell the others," Marcus spoke. "Not about this."

Peter wasn't sure what he meant, but he was aware that this wasn't the moment to ask questions. Looking around all he saw was a huge mess and two of his loved ones in need of help. So he put the doubts and wonder aside, trying hard not to be impressed by Marcus's speed or accuracy in his current state. Even as the thought passed his mind, he saw Marcus sway on his feet. Peter quickly took the gun from his hands then gently helped him sit down on the floor. It was time he stopped the bleeding. Everything else would have to wait.


	17. Chapter 17

Tomas was only half conscious when he heard the gunshots. His body jerked instinctively, still expecting to feel the pain of a bullet hitting his flesh, but there was nothing. And as the seconds ticked by he noted somehow absentmindedly that the darkness of the room lifted a bit. For the first time since this whole affair started he felt as if he could take a deep breath. Still, there was weariness deep in his bones and his eyelids felt as if they weighed a ton. But each time he let them slip closed, there was a flash of an image.

He couldn't discern what it was, only colors and sensations, but it sent his heart thumping wildly. Tomas snapped his eyes open and looked around. His eyes landed on the two bodies riddled with bullet holes, on Marcus's slumped form being held in Peter's arms, on the puddle of blood on the floor. He felt sick and he must've moaned because there was motion next to him. Tomas jerked away when he felt a touch on his arm, eyes wildly spinning towards the stranger. But the man's eyes were kind and his colors were soothing. There was no hint of darkness and so Tomas allowed the touch. He didn't even flinch at the sight of a knife as it sliced through the ropes still holding him to the chair. As soon as he felt the constraints fall, Tomas lurched from the chair, falling hard on his palms and knees, knowing there would be bruises but not caring. All he could focus on was the need to purge himself of the sickness and so he threw up. His stomach was already empty but Tomas couldn't stop it, he spit bile on the floor and let tears join it. Everything felt dirty, everything tasted and smelled bad, like sulfur and decay. He swallowed, his breath hitching. He knew there was nothing else to bring up but he couldn't stop. Not until he felt the hand on his back rubbing soothing circles, whispering familiar words of prayer. Tomas's arms trembled from holding up his weight, so he let the stranger help him sit back on his hunches. The man knelt down next to him, ignoring his pants getting dirty from the floor.

"I'm father James Solvay. But you can call me Jim, yeah?"

The man smiled and Tomas gave him a shaky nod. Knowing it was a priest made him feel a bit better, even though he didn't see his collar.

"I'm Peter's friend. Let me help you."

Tomas frowned, unsure what the offer of help entailed. All he truly desired right now was a hug from Marcus. He wanted to make sure the older man was alive and alright. He wanted to know he didn't lose another person that mattered to him. But most of all, Tomas just wanted to feel safe, to have someone else take away all his pain and problems. He felt on the verge of tears and he almost called out Marcus's name like a little child, but then he saw Marcus' ashen face grimacing in pain as Peter applied pressure to the cut on his arm, trying to stop the bleeding. Tomas swallowed. He had no right to ask for anything, not after what happened.

As if feeling his gaze, Peter looked up. His mouth turned up in a small smile, though his eyes were clouded with worry and something else. Peter looked torn between helping Marcus and going to Tomas and Tomas was dismayed at the warmth that simple thought sent through his core. Peter cared about him too.

"Are you okay, Tomas?" Peter asked and Tomas saw Marcus twitch in Peter's arms, eyes opening and turning towards him in concern as well as determination. Tomas knew that if he didn't answer Marcus would crawl out of Peter's arms if needed just to make sure of his well being. So even though he felt anything but okay, Tomas gave a nod.

"Y-yeah. I'm good," he said softly. Peter frowned, not looking convinced, but then he felt Marcus move and hissed at him to stay put.

"I'll check him over, don't worry," Jim said, putting a gentle hand on Tomas's shoulder. "Stay still Marcus and let Peter stop the bleeding. Last thing we need is for you to pass out from blood loss." The way the priest said it Tomas realized that he and Marcus knew each other as well. And seeing Marcus nod and relent was more proof that he could be trusted.

Frankly, even if Tomas wanted to protest, he had no energy left. He let Jim help him back onto the chair, even though at this point he truly disliked that piece of furniture. But it seemed like a better place than the floor covered in things Tomas didn't want to even think about, least of all see or smell. So he sat back and let the priest check his eyes. Tomas wasn't sure what the man was looking for as he gazed intently into his eyes. Was he looking for that second pupil or just making sure Tomas's brain wasn't mush?

The flask that appeared in his hands seemed to be an answer enough. The priest sprinkled his fingers, then touched Tomas's forehead and made a small cross. Tomas almost chuckled, but he didn't have the energy. Still, he raised an amused eyebrow.

"Really?" he asked, then winced as he felt the motion open the wound on his forehead and a small trickle of blood run down his cheek.

"Humor me," Jim shrugged then proceeded to recite several verses. Tomas thought he should know them, but the words were running into each other and he just couldn't focus on them. So he decided to just 'humor' the priest and let his eyes roam the room. Of course they landed on the two bodies, the pool of blood next to the now empty chair and finally on Marcus.

Marcus, who was watching him with the same dazed look even as Peter was putting on a tourniquet on his arm to stop the bleeding. Tomas flinched, unable to handle the gaze, expecting to feel disappointment or accusations but seeing only deep concern. He wasn't sure if he could deal with that any better than the rest of the feelings, so he looked away, at the fourth man, the one he didn't know at all. His eyes were drawn to the badge and it was no hard feat to figure out the man was a cop. His movements were practical. He had a pair of gloves on and was moving around the scene, taking it all in, checking on the man that was curled up on the floor behind Marcus's chair, spit running down his cheek, eyes unseeing. Tomas jerked away from the sight, acutely aware that it was him who did that.

Tomas felt once again sick to his stomach, though he knew it was just the guilt trying to punish him. There was nothing to bring up and his stomach and throat were sore from his last attempt, so Tomas looked away, a silent mantra running through his mind.

_'Stop it, stop it, stop it!_ '

It helped. He knew it wasn't a long term fix, but for the moment his thoughts could center on something else, anything. Fortunately that was the moment when Jim declared him demon free, if a bit concussed and banged up. Tomas glared at him. He didn't _need_ confirmation of being demon free, thank you very much. He knew the demon was gone, felt it, _saw it_. Still, both Peter and Marcus seemed to let out a collective sigh of relief.

The moment Peter finished the tourniquet, he begrudgingly helped Marcus up to his feet. Marcus stumbled over to Tomas, then without a second of hesitation enveloped Tomas in a bone crushing hug.

Tomas first tensed but he quickly succumbed and leaned into the hug. None of them cared about the blood and grime on their clothes. Tomas just buried his head in Marcus's chest, basking in the warmth of his light, feeling the chill that was deep seated slowly starting to melt away. He was so comfortable he could let himself go, close his eyes and sleep, or so he thought. Tomas heard Marcus muttering over his head, thanking God repeatedly, then his voice changed and Tomas tensed.

"Don't you dare do anything like this ever again, Tomas," Marcus said and there was so much recrimination that Tomas flinched. "I thought I lost you."

"I knew you could bring me back," Tomas protested, his voice full of trust and he looked up into Marcus's face. He didn't expect to see the anger reflected in the blue eyes however or hear the growl.

"I didn't, Tomas! You don't get it? There is no way back from this ritual! If you hadn't fought it off somehow, I don't know how, you would have been lost, forever! Do you understand how stupid that was?!" Marcus shouted on the verge of collapse and Tomas felt the blood rush out of his own face. Suddenly he was glad he was sitting as the realization hit him. He could've been lost in that hell for all eternity. That wasn't just death, no, that was so much worse. He didn't actually have a clear memory of what transpired, but he knew it was the worst thing he ever experienced and he didn't want it to repeat, ever again.

Marcus looked like he wanted to tell him more; his eyes wild and desperate to drive in the message, but Peter chose that moment to interfere and Tomas felt truly thankful. He wasn't sure he could handle anything else.

"That's enough, Marcus. Now is not the time or place." Peter's voice was gentle and Marcus's eyes fell as he took a proper look at Tomas and his sunken face. With a sob, he just pulled Tomas back into his arms.

"Don't ever do this again, Tomas. Not for anyone, especially not for me. Please." Marcus muttered into his ear and Tomas could only nod softly, even though he knew it was a promise he couldn't make. He was scared to death of what happened or what could happen, but he wasn't willing to let anyone he loved to go through that. Not if he could help it.

"If you guys are all okay," Luke spoke suddenly, interrupting the moment. "I'd advise to move this touching reunion somewhere else. Preferably somewhere out of state, as this will be one big mess come morning."

Four pairs of eyes turned to Luke and none of them could find a reason to disagree.

And so they moved. It was awkward at first. Tomas thought he would be much steadier on his feet but once he got up they felt like jelly and his head spun. Fortunately, Jim seemed to expect that as he had his arm around Tomas's waist before he even realized the floor was coming his way. Tomas gulped, closing his eyes momentarily, ignoring the worried calls of his name. After several deep breaths and with Jim's support he was back in a vertical position and albeit walking a bit drunkenly, he was making good progress towards the door.

Peter looked around a bit hesitantly, his brain working much clearer than Tomas's or Marcus's and realizing how much evidence they were leaving behind.

"We are really screwed, aren't we?" Peter muttered, even as he was putting Marcus's good arm around his shoulder and steadying him.

Luke looked up from the body of father Simon, who he just patted down.

"I won't say this isn't shitty," Luke admitted, then shook his head. "But it's nothing that can't be somehow... fixed."

"There's DNA all over the place and the bullets..." Peter protested. "That guy is also pretty high on the ladder. Someone will be looking for him soon and the church will make this a priority case."

"DNA can be taken care of easily. As for the bullets... the gun I gave you isn't registered. Give it to me and I'll take care of it. And Marcus shot this one with that other jerks gun. That can work for us actually."

Peter saw that Luke already had some plan brewing in his mind if the small smirk was anything to go by. He gave a relieved smile.

"Thanks, Luke. I won't forget this, I swear."

"Me neither," Marcus said and offered his hand to Luke for a handshake. Luke took hold of it and chuckled.

"Here I was hoping our first meeting could be at a bar, with a drink," Luke commented then the humor left his face. "I somehow wish I could forget though. This shit sure won't help my nightmares."

"I think neither of us will be sleeping well for some time," Peter admitted then patted Luke on the shoulder. "Forever in your debt, brother."

"Yeah, yeah. Just get lost so I can set this place on fire."

Peter blinked, unsure if it was just an expression or if Luke meant it. Before he could ask though they heard Tomas's worried voice from the door. "Marcus?"

"We're coming," Marcus called back and with a last thankful glance at Luke headed towards the exit.

Getting to the car was a bit of a hassle, as Peter parked it well out of the way so as to not attract any attention. By the time they climbed the small hill both Tomas and Marcus were in need of a break and Peter and Jim were having to support more and more of their weight.

However, they counted themselves lucky that they didn't encounter anyone else, that Maria hasn't decided to return. Peter just hoped that Luke would do what he planned to do quickly and then get safely away.

Finally they reached the car and Tomas and Marcus were deposited in the back seat, while Jim took over the driving. Peter was in the passenger seat, casting worried glances to the back.

Tomas noted he was shivering only once they were inside the car and Jim turned on the heating. While it wasn't all that chilly outside, Tomas felt coldness inside his bones. Marcus was shivering as well, though that might've been more from blood loss than the stress of the last few hours. Tomas just hoped the shaking won't make him look like some weak child.

All the thought of trying to appear strong however fled his mind as Marcus reached out and pulled him close. Tomas let the arm guide him to rest his head on Marcus's shoulder. Even though the position wasn't the most comfortable in the world, it allowed Tomas to feel the man's warmth and feel the beating of his heart under his skin. As the car started and they were speeding away from the nightmare, Tomas tuned out most of what was said around him. The men were talking about clearing up the scene and gaining a few hours of head start... for what, Tomas didn't have a clue.

He felt as if he just returned to his body and Marcus who was next to him, unwilling to even let him out of his reach seemed to be similarly affected. Tomas let the motion of the car lull him into a pretense of peace. However, as soon as he closed his eyes, he was taken over by fear. So he kept them open, focusing on the feeling of Marcus's arm around his shoulder, appreciating the way he was running his hand up and down in soothing circles.

"Where are we going?" Tomas finally asked when he noted they were reaching familiar parts of the city.

"Home," Peter spoke and for a moment Tomas thought that Peter was just planning to drop him off at his place and leave. There was a slight panic, until Marcus hushed him.

"We just need to grab some things. Don't worry. It'll be quick. Then we leave town."

Tomas was quiet for a second, running the thought over his head. Leaving town? Why? And where were they going? Will Olivia let him leave?

Suddenly it was as if someone slapped him on the face as the pieces connected in his brain. Tomas gasped then pulled out of Marcus's embrace, eyes wide and scared.

"I'm not leaving without Liv!" He stated resolutely.

There was a moment of silence following his statement, three pairs of eyes exchanging looks that made Tomas's skin crawl.

"No, I'm not leaving! She's my sister, I can't just leave-" Tomas turned plaintive eyes towards Marcus. "Please, Marcus. She's family! We don't leave family behind! If they catch her, I can't let her be harmed, not like that. Please!"

"Okay, okay, calm down," Marcus soothed, seeing that Tomas was working himself up, his breaths coming out too shallow and quick. "Just breathe, Tomas. We are not leaving your sister."

This time it was Peter and Jim exchanging a look, both grimacing because that definitely complicated things. Though Peter had to admit that Tomas was right. There was no telling what could happen to Olivia if they left the town without her. Not to mention she could sound an alarm very quickly if she returned home in the morning and didn't find Tomas there. Nothing like an amber alert to make their attempt at leaving the state harder.

"You swear? You're not leaving her behind?" Tomas sobbed, not letting his eyes from Marcus. He was the only person he absolutely trusted and if Marcus promised Tomas knew he wouldn't break his word. "Swear to me." He pushed and with a sigh Marcus relented. "I promise, Tomas. We will take Olivia with us, okay? Now try and calm down, yeah? All this excitement is making me a bit dizzy."

Tomas blushed, suddenly feeling guilty for pressuring Marcus especially in the state he was in. He still felt guilty for that and knew he shouldn't be asking anything, but this was his sister's life.

"I'm sorry," Tomas muttered. "Just please, help Olivia. I swear I won't ask you for anything else ever again. I won't cause any more trouble, I promise," he said even as Marcus pulled him back to his embrace.

"Hey hey, kiddo, you're a teenager, of course you'll cause trouble," Marcus said jokingly and was relieved when he heard Tomas snort, even though it sounded more like a sob. "Trust us. It'll be alright. I won't let anything happen to you, Chico." Marcus muttered soothingly, ignoring Tomas's grunt at the nickname.

"Not small anymore," Tomas protested.

"Still way younger than me," Marcus quipped back. "And don't you dare to say that's most of the things." He warned goodheartedly.

"Wouldn't dare," Tomas said and Marcus glared forward when he heard Peter cough, trying to mask his chuckle.

Once they reached the familiar street, Jim slowed down the car, his eyes scanning the surroundings. Peter did the same, looking at the parked cars. They all looked familiar and the street seemed empty. No wonder, it was just past three am. No sane person would be traipsing outside, except maybe one of their neighbors walking a dog.

"Looks good," Peter muttered to Jim's silent question.

"Is your garage empty?" Jim asked and Peter raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Think it would be better if your neighbors didn't see the kid getting out of the car."

"Oh. Right." Peter turned back, wanting to tell Tomas to maybe keep his head down a bit, but he quickly noted that the way Marcus was holding Tomas kept him well out of sight. Marcus just nodded and Peter stepped out of the car to open the garage door. Jim pulled in and Peter quickly closed the door.

"Wait here, we'll check out the house," Peter said and even though Marcus wanted to protest that it was a bit excessive, a sudden throb in his head reminded him how easily he was taken by surprise.

"Okay. Be careful," he said instead.

"Always," Peter said with a smile and followed Jim inside his house, for the first time feeling more like an intruder than the rightful owner of the place.

* * *

Several minutes later, after the check of the house didn't reveal anything sinister, Marcus and Tomas were sat behind the kitchen table, both handed some orange juice to sip on. The blinds were down on all the windows and the lights were on as Peter brought in some clean towels and their med kit. He stood by the table, worrying on his bottom lip as Jim released the tourniquet on Marcus's arm and fresh blood started seeping through the bandage. Tomas on the next chair became almost as pale as Marcus himself at the sight and Peter couldn't fault him. Just hearing the hiss of pain from his lover made his skin crawl in sympathy.

"Do you need help?" Peter asked and Jim looked up from his work.

"Did you also hit your head and forget I was your field medic?" Jim asked with a lopsided grin. "Don't worry, I can handle this. You need to pack though and do it fast. So stop lounging around like a worried mother hen."

This garnered a chuckle from both Marcus and Tomas, while Peter just sighed. Of course he should've remembered Jim's no nonsense attitude when under pressure. Still, he needed to make sure Marcus was okay. He leaned over, planting a kiss on the top of his head then just to feel better, gently ruffled Tomas' hair. The kid looked as bad as his partner, with the blood from the head wound drying on his skin. Not to mention the horrific image they all witnessed upon their arrival.

Peter shook off those thoughts however and gave himself a sharp reminder that they didn't have time for this. Once they were at the cabin, all of them safe and huddled in front of the heart, then he could let his mind wander to what he saw, what he did. Right now he needed to focus on the things they would need in the following days or weeks.

First he headed towards his office and the safe where he had all his documents, some cash and anything of value, whether economical or personal. He put all the things into a bag he had already prepared the last week, just in case. Ever since they knew just how deep this thing went, Peter started making contingency plans and he was glad when instead of laughing him off Marcus decided to help. So they both had prepared emergency bags, though at the time they didn't plan on leaving everything else behind indefinitely. With that in mind, Peter had to add some personal items that he wasn't ready to part with, along with some of Marcus's treasured possessions. He felt a twinge of guilt upon the realization that Tomas didn't get the same chance. The boy would have to leave the city with most of his personal items left behind. At least he grabbed some things Tomas seemed to have left behind during his last few visits. A spare shirt, some books... his journal, the one with all the gruesome stuff.

With a sigh, Peter threw it on top of the second bag. He took a look around his bedroom and with some regret went to turn off the light, when he paused. It would be a long road and there was no reason not to bring at least some comfort. So Peter grabbed several pillows and blankets, bundled them up under his arms and resolutely turned off the light. Everything else he needed was downstairs.

Peter took everything to the car, added a few items from the garage then returned to the kitchen. Jim was finishing sewing up the cut on Marcus's arm and Tomas was resting his chin on one hand, the other holding and ice pack against the wound on his head. His eyes were hooded, blinking lazily.

"I didn't realize we had a sewing kit," Peter muttered as Jim cut off the last thread and bandaged the cut. Marcus was grimacing, but actually seemed a bit more alert than before. Probably due to the pain.

"Nah, when you called I just brought my kit with the hooks and fishing lines," Jim said and chuckled as he saw the startled look on Tomas' face. "Kidding. Army medic here. It's not just the scouts who are supposed to be always prepared." Jim patted Marcus on the shoulder, then turned towards Tomas.

"Okay kid, your turn. Let me take a look at that noggin of yours and clean those rope burns."

Tomas grimaced, casting a dubious look towards the sewing kit, earning another chuckle from Jim.

"Don't worry, I think some butterfly bandages will do."

"I wasn't worried," Tomas protested, though he visibly relaxed when Jim didn't brandish the needle. Peter watched for a moment as Jim tended to Tomas, then he turned to Marcus, who was rubbing at his eyes tiredly.

"I've packed everything I could think of, but if you want anything else there's still some space in the car."

Marcus looked up, giving Peter a thankful smile.

"Actually, I think I'll grab a few books we might find useful later. They're a bit hard to get hold of." Marcus stood and Peter was happy to note he wavered only a bit, but after a second or two seemed much steadier on his feet.

"Good. I'll make some coffee to take with us. It'll be a long drive and I'd like to get as far as possible without stopping."

Marcus nodded and was about to step out of the kitchen, when Tomas seemed to realize what was said. A bit startled, he pulled back from Jim's attempts at cleaning the wound on his forehead.

"Wait, what about Liv? And why are we leaving? Can't we just stay here?" he rambled off the questions, his breath coming out faster as the reality of their situation started to sink in. It looked like the last twenty minutes in the familiar kitchen lulled Tomas into some false sense of security and he almost forgot what happened. Or maybe it was just the concussion and weariness. Peter exchanged a worried look with Jim and Marcus turned back from the door.

"Tomas, you remember what happened, yes?" It was Peter who carefully asked and Tomas shot him a look of annoyed disbelief.

"Yes, it's quite hard to forget!" Tomas snapped then blushed. "Sorry," he muttered. "I just... why do we have to leave? S-Simon is already dead."

The three men shared another look and Tomas frowned. Finally it was Marcus who decided to explain the situation, while Jim took hold of Tomas's arm and inspected the damage from the rope burns.

"Simon wasn't working alone, Tomas," Marcus started gently, frowning a bit while thinking how to best explain without scaring Tomas too much. "This... whatever he was part of, is much bigger. Do you remember what happened after you said yes?"

Tomas frowned then slowly shook his head.

"No. It's... it's all hazy. I just know it hurt and..." Tomas shook his head. He saw the pained look on Marcus's own face. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You don't have to, not now," Marcus said with a small nod. "Whether you remember or not, Tomas... you did something no one else managed. At least, not that we know of."

"What?"

"Come back from Vocare Pulvere. You... destroyed the demon. That's... unseemly."

Tomas looked doubtful, but he saw that even Jim had an impressed look on his face.

"So what? If... if I can do that, wouldn't they leave me alone?" Tomas felt stupid even as he asked the question. Of course not. If he could do something that would destroy the demons their most logical action would be to try and kill him, to stop the threat. Which brought him back to his first question.

"If they find out I'm alive... they can go after Olivia, right? Maria can just come to our home again with some other demons and Liv wouldn't even know she's in danger-" Tomas's breath hitched and he tensed, his eyes looking at the clock on the wall in panic. It was almost four am. Olivia's shift would end in two hours and then she would come home... the last Tomas remembered of their apartment was that he was falling and possibly bleeding on the carpet. If Olivia came home to find the front door unlocked, Tomas missing and his cell phone still in the living room, she would panic.

"We need to call Liv. Please, she needs to come with us!" Tomas turned pleading eyes to Marcus, then Peter.

"We can't risk anyone else seeing that Tomas is alive. And we can't lose more time," Peter said, thinking out loud, raising a hand when Tomas opened his mouth to protest. "I'm not saying we'll leave her behind. Just that we need to come up with a plan."

That at least seamed to appease Tomas a bit and he nodded. It was Jim who spoke next.

"I could get her," he offered almost off handedly, while rubbing an antiseptic on the rope burns on Tomas's wrists and applying a light bandage.

Tomas hissed a bit then shook his head at the offer.

"She doesn't know you. She won't just... get in the car with a stranger."

"Tomas has a point," Marcus agreed, remembering only too well how suspicious was Olivia towards him and Peter even though they were already seeing and tutoring Tomas for several weeks. "What would you tell her?"

"The truth?" Jim offered with a raised eyebrow. "Doesn't she know about Tomas and his 'skills'?"

"She wouldn't be calling that a skill," Tomas snorted, unable to stop himself. Then he shook his head. "No, Olivia doesn't know about demons, doesn't even _believe_ they exist. I need to come with you."

"Not going to happen," Marcus protested wholeheartedly and Peter was nodding along to him. "We need to get you out of the city. Right now, Olivia is safer than we are."

Tomas wanted to protest again but Jim held up his hand.

"What would your sister believe?" he asked and Tomas frowned, thinking about it, but his brain was mush and he looked up, desperate.

"I don't know. She's already... doubting Peter and Marcus. She won't trust a strange priest." Tomas looked at Marcus and Peter apologetically, but they just waved him off.

"What about cops? Does your sister have a better stance with the police?"

"Yeah. I think she does," Tomas admitted. Even though growing up in different countries, both of them were brought up to respect authorities. Or at least try and stay as far away from them as possible, in Tomas's case.

"Great. In that case, I'll call Luke for some help. How does witness protection program sound to you?"

Tomas's mouth fell open and he looked at all three men in confusion and fear.

"What?"

Marcus put an arm around his shoulder, while Jim said: "Don't worry about it, just give me the address she's at and I'll get her. We could meet a few miles out of the town."

"So you just want to lie to her?" Tomas looked doubtful.

"Do you have a better idea?" Jim raised an eyebrow. Tomas didn't.

"That's settled then. I think we should get some way to contact each other, but I don't think using your cell phone is very smart," Jim said now talking to Peter.

"Good thing then that I got these," Peter pulled out two burner phones from his jacket pocket and handed one of them over to Jim.

"The number of the other one is already in it."

"Are you always carrying burner phones or were you getting ready for war?" Jim joked and Peter rolled his eyes.

"Actually, I bought these last week. I had a feeling we might need them," he admitted a bit sheepishly. At the time it felt paranoid, but that didn't stop Peter from getting in touch with another of his old buddies and inquire about the possibility of using his cabin in the woods for the summer. While at first Peter was thinking more in terms of a quiet summer vacation, as soon as he spoke to Luke about Tomas' journal he thought of the cabin as sort of a backup contingency plan.

"Well, good thinking in any case. Now tell me where we should meet up and what else will you need from me and Luke before you guys start your new life."

Peter nodded and started working out the details with Jim. Marcus gave Tomas a reassuring smile then excused himself to go and grab the books he wanted. Tomas listened for a moment to the two ex-soldiers talking about safest exit roads and strategy but there were doubts gnawing at his stomach. He slowly stood up, pausing a second to let the world settle. Two pairs of eyes turned to him and he waved them off a bit irritated.

"I'm fine. I'll be with Marcus," he mumbled and headed to the living room, where Marcus kept most of his books. Just like he thought, Marcus was by the small library, fingers browsing over book spines, looking for the titles and prioritizing between them with a frown.

Tomas watched him for a moment, silent and pondering. He was leaning against the doorjamb and would have loved to sit down on the couch, but his clothes were dirty and he didn't want to make the couch dirty, which... really didn't make much sense, seeing as they were about to leave the city and everything behind. Somehow it just all seemed unreal, as if he was still trapped inside a nightmare and any moment someone would shake his shoulder and wake him up from it.

"Hey, you okay?" Marcus asked, obviously having turned around and noting Tomas's presence while he was lost in his mind.

Tomas shivered a bit, crossing his arms on his chest as he pulled his gaze away from the couch.

"Y-yeah, I think so."

Marcus raised an eyebrow, putting the books he had picked out on the table and settling down on the couch, relief at being off his feet evident on his face. Marcus patted the couch next to him, rolling his eyes when Tomas pointed at his dirty trousers and shoes. Without too much nudging, Tomas joined him, although he made sure to sit just on the corner of the couch.

"What's bothering you?" Marcus asked and it was such an absurd question that both he and Tomas quirked a smile.

"Really?"

"Okay, I get it. Too much happened," Marcus's face sobered. "What's bothering you right now?"

Tomas bit at his bottom lip then sighed.

"Why can't we go for Liv?"

"We already went through this, Tomas. There's a chance someone is already watching her. It would put you in danger."

"I could stay in the car."

"I'm sorry, but no. I won't take that risk, not after what you already went through."

"I'm fine!" Tomas snapped. "I need to help Olivia."

"You will. By getting into safety first and foremost."

Tomas grunted. Marcus could be so stubborn sometimes it drove him crazy. How could he explain that it was all his fault? That he didn't want other people risking their lives for his sake. He just wanted this nightmare to end, to make sure Olivia was safe, that Marcus and Peter were safe.

"How... how can you be sure Jim can keep her safe?" Tomas finally asked the question that was bothering him most about their plan.

"Jim kept Peter safe while they were overseas. He's a soldier, but he's also a priest. I trust him, but if you have any reservations, we will come up with something else," Marcus offered softly. Tomas fidgeted, unconsciously picking at the bandages on his arms. He felt under enormous pressure to make the right decision, even though in reality he knew the men would probably go ahead with whatever they already planned. Seeing his doubts, Marcus reached up and touched his face, nudging it so that Tomas was looking at him.

"I trust Jim," Marcus said, then quickly added: "But I trust you even more. So tell me, what do you see when you look at him?"

For a second Tomas wasn't sure what Marcus meant. Jim was in the kitchen, out of his sight. But Tomas watched him before, when he treated Marcus, or later when he talked to Peter. Peter was at ease with him.

"Tell me what you _saw_ , Tomas." Marcus added and Tomas suddenly understood. Back at the warehouse, the first hazy moment when he came to and Jim was there, he really looked at him and knew the man was safe. That he wasn't a threat to him or his friends... that he could be trusted. What was more, in the kitchen he saw Jim's energy reaching out and gently mixing with Marcus's, feeding it, helping him to recover.

"Okay," Tomas muttered, giving a slight nod. If Jim could keep Peter safe in a war zone, how hard could it be for him to keep Olivia safe during a drive out of Chicago?

As if reading his thoughts, Jim and Peter popped into the living room.

"Luke has agreed with the plan, he's just... finishing up with something," Jim said with a grimace. Tomas looked up a bit warily.

"Can you give me the address of your sister's work?"

"Yeah, sure." Tomas looked around and spotted a piece of paper and pen. He quickly jotted down the address and handed it to Jim.

"Thank you. Have the phone close by, I think she'll want to talk to you before anything."

Tomas looked at Peter, who patted his jacket pocket with the cell phone and gave him an encouraging smile. Tomas nodded and stood up, walking towards Jim, taking one last good look at the man and feeling some of the worry ease. Jim was nothing if not sincere in his attempt to help and underneath the calm surface there was the same protective fierceness of a warrior Tomas saw when he looked at Peter.

"Just... be careful, please. She's the only family I had left," Tomas said softly, pushing back the thought that maybe that's not true anymore. Maybe he had just become part of another family.

"Don't worry Tomas, I'll keep her safe." Jim said, giving Tomas's arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Thank you."

Jim nodded and headed out the door. It was Jim's car they used for the rescue mission and which was now parked inside the garage. Peter's own SUV was parked in front of the house like usual. They'd decided that for safety reasons the best course of action would be if they swapped cars. Once they would get into safety, Peter would park Jim's car in a town further away and let him know the location. But right now they didn't want to risk anything, so they exchanged car keys and wished each other good luck.

Peter watched from the window as Jim reached the car, and only once he was safely inside and driving down the road, without a hint of a pursuer, Peter let the blinds fall back and turned toward Marcus.

"Okay, let's hit the road," Peter said and ushered both Marcus and Tomas into the car.

"Here," Peter pushed a bundle of pillows and blankets at Tomas. "Until we meet up with Olivia, you can lie down and try to get some rest. It'll be a long drive."

Tomas looked at the pillows a bit sheepishly. On one side, he would've wanted nothing more than to just lie down and sleep. On the other, he was terrified of what nightmares would come. But his body was begging him to get into a horizontal position, so he gruffly put the pillow against the door and squeezed himself into the backseat of the car. He was too long to lie straight so it was a bit cramped, but Tomas welcomed it. Maybe the small discomfort would help keep him awake, at least until they get to Olivia. The nervous thudding inside his chest certainly wasn't letting him fall asleep; at least that's what he thought. But after several minutes the engine's soft rumbling and the silence inside the car helped him slow down his breathing. His eyes started to slip close and Tomas hazily thought his body betrayed him as he was unable to stay awake any longer.

 


	18. Chapter 18

It was just one of those nights when nothing interesting really happened and time seemed to slow to a crawl until it just stopped altogether. Olivia was tidying up her receptionist desk, eyeing the vending machine with coffee in the corner of the entry hall and thinking how smart it would be to drink another coffee just two hours before the end of her shift.

Probably not all that smart, she thought with a sigh and rubbed wearily at her eyes then shook her head. To hell with it. She stood and walked to the machine, buying herself the strongest coffee it had to offer even if it was just some instant crap. Usually after a night shift she would just come home, peek into Tomas's room to make sure everything was alright and maybe prepare him breakfast for school. Sometimes she even stayed up until Tomas left. Lately though she was so tired that she barely shrugged out of her clothes and slumped into the bed, falling asleep almost immediately. She wasn't sure how long she could survive this kind of life. Working two jobs and trying to finish school were difficult enough. Adding the stress of worrying about Tomas to the mix was just over the top.

She was worried about her little brother ever since their Abuela passed, but even more so once their mother died and everything fell on her shoulders. She wasn't ready for that, hardly anyone would be, really. It would be problematic under normal circumstances but with the added worry about Tomas's health Olivia thought she might just give up soon if things didn't change. Maria Walter's visit came like a balm to her, a chance to get a bit of rest while Tomas was off at the summer camp. Even if it was for study, Olivia wished to give Tomas the opportunity of being with kids his age and interests, rather than spending his time with two adult men. Olivia didn't know what to think of Marcus and Peter to be honest. In theory, the fact they took such keen interest in Tomas worried her greatly. But it was different when she saw them in person, when they talked. In person, Olivia felt safe in their presence and understood Tomas's own happiness upon their company. The problem was that her mind seemed to forget those things, especially when she started noticing Tomas's missing presence at home. Her brother was more often than not over at Marcus's place and while rationally she knew Tomas had good instincts and wouldn't allow anyone to hurt him, she had been growing up in Chicago and read the news. Not to mention at nights like these, when there was barely any guests at the hotel and she just didn't feel like studying for school, her thoughts tended to go dark and depressive. Though logically, she knew Marcus and Peter were safe, her heart was having doubts. However, even she had to admit those weren't really rational ones, mostly led by jealousy. And that was perhaps the crux of the problem. She _was_ jealous of Marcus and Peter, of the ease they seemed to create a bond with Tomas, even though they were practically strangers. Tomas seemed to trust them more than he trusted her. The argument they had just a few hours ago was clear evidence of that.

With a sigh, Olivia sipped at the scalding hot coffee, returning to her desk. Only two more hours, she thought, then she could go home. Get another coffee, make some breakfast and wake up Tomas. Because they needed to talk.

His reaction to Maria Walters was incomprehensible to Olivia. It was one thing that Tomas thought she would be happy to send him away, to get rid of him. It stung deep, but she could understand where he was coming from. But accusing a woman like Maria of unspeakable things? While she was handing him the opportunity of the life time? No, that wasn't something Olivia could allow. Hopefully Tomas had a time to cool down a bit, maybe even go over the files about the school. If not, if his stance on the matter didn't change, well then Olivia would just have to go to the source of the problem. Maybe Marcus and Peter would know where her brother got such a preposterous idea in his head. And God help them if they had anything to do with it. Olivia wasn't ready to let her brother give up an opportunity such as this.

Nodding and feeling suddenly better at having set out a plan (or maybe it was just the coffee talking), Olivia sat down and pulled out one of her course books. It would be stupid not to use the next two hours for studying. It looked like she wouldn't have all that much time to do that during the day.

It was maybe twenty minutes later, the coffee cup standing empty on her desk, when the hotel door opened, the bell startling her out of her study. Olivia looked up and frowned. Two men she'd never seen before walked in, looking around as if assessing the place, taking in every detail. While that wasn't all that unusual, getting new guests at this time of the night was suspicious. She was used to drunken couples stumbling in at all times of the night, mistaking the place for an hour motel, or lonely businessmen whose cars broke down or flights were delayed. But two men without any suitcases rang an alarm bell. She stood behind her desk, her hand clutching around the maze spray she had on the key ring. There was also a panic button in case someone would be stupid enough to try and rob them, even though most of the transactions were run through the card system and there was barely any cash on site.

"How can I help you?" she asked, trying to sound much less scared than she really was. One of the men, the taller, dark skinned one, reached into his jacket and Olivia took an instinctive step back. She spotted a gun holster on his side and her heartbeat went through the roof. However, the man wasn't reaching for his gun but for a badge instead.

"I'm detective Luke Garrison. I'm sorry, I didn't want to scare you," the man said and his voice sounded tired but also calm, as if he was aware of how threatening he might've looked to her.

Olivia visible relaxed. Cops. Well, that explained their presence. Probably looking for some suspect.

"I'm Jim Solvay," the other man introduced himself and Olivia wondered if he was also a cop. He didn't look like one. While he was wearing usual clothes, there was no visible holster or badge peeking from under his jacket. Yet as he stopped in front of her, the man held his body ramrod straight, like a soldier would. Olivia's frown deepened and she wished her shift would be over already. It was just her luck to be here and have to deal with the police.

"Uh, how can I help you, gentlemen?" she asked, feeling proud that her voice wasn't shaking.

"Are you Olivia Ortega?" the detective asked and Olivia froze, her blood turning to ice. The last time a cop asked her name it was to tell inform her about her mother's death. She hoped to never again go through something like that and thought she wouldn't have to. The only living relative she had was Tomas and it couldn't have been about him, because Tomas was at home, safely tucked in bed, sleeping... Still, her instincts kicked in and she could finally identify the source of the nervousness that was bothering her all night.

"Is my brother alright?" This time she didn't even attempt to steady her voice. The two men exchanged a look and Olivia gripped at the desk to keep herself upright. Suddenly her legs felt like jelly and she must've paled, because the guy introducing himself as Jim quickly raised a hand.

"He's alright. Tomas is alright," he added appeasingly, though it just served to rekindle Olivia's worry, because she didn't tell him Tomas's name so how the hell did he know?

"What happened?" she asked and caught another strange look passing between the two men. She had just about enough. "Where is my brother and why the hell are you here?"

"Calm down, Ms. Ortega. Tomas is fine, although your concerns are valid. We are here because last night something happened."

"What happened? Was Tomas involved? I don't understand. Is he arrested?"

"Why don't we all sit down for a minute and we'll explain?"

"But before we get into that," detective Luke interrupted, "we'll need you to come with us. So maybe you should call someone to come and relieve you here?"

Olivia's eyes went a bit wide.

"Come with you? Where?"

Luke shook his head.

"Don't worry, just call someone. We'll explain while they arrive. It's important we leave as soon as possible."

Olivia didn't understand, but realized the fastest way to get an answer would be just to do what the cop asked. It took her five minutes of furious pleading and promises about switching shifts in the future to convince her colleague to come to work over an hour earlier. She knew it would cost her, especially as said coworker tended to use favors to their fullest, but somehow she couldn't make herself care. There was a cop wanting to talk to her about something that clearly involved her brother. Work troubles be damned.

As soon as she ended the call, she pointed towards the sitting area. She wished she had some coffee left so she could hold onto something and hide her shaking fingers, but there was no way she was going to get another cup right now. So she sat down in the plush seat facing the two men.

"What happened?" she asked resolutely and there was no broking argument. No more stalling.

"I'm not sure if you are aware of this, Miss Ortega-" Jim started but Olivia interrupted him. "Olivia, please."

"Olivia. Call me Jim then."

She nodded distractedly and he continued.

"A few weeks ago, your brother witnessed a rather violent crime."

Olivia tensed, her eyes going wide as her brain flashed back to the last few weeks, bringing forward memories of the strange way Tomas acted. All the time she thought he was just adjusting to the move, to losing Abuela and their mother and to the seizures he had and now there was someone telling her that Tomas had to deal with more?

"What... what crime?" she asked in a choked voice and felt her stomach twist, the coffee and late night snack suddenly weighing a ton.

"That's not really that important at this moment," Luke jumped in and Olivia glared at him.

"He's my brother! Of course it's important!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way," Luke apologized, though it was obvious he was just trying to get to the point while keeping her calm. Somehow that just made Olivia's worry flare.

"What did he see?" Olivia asked again, but pointed her question to Jim. The man seemed to be somehow more approachable and the way he spoke helped to calm Olivia at least a bit.

"A murder. Or several of them, to be exact." Jim didn't mess around, earning a glare from Luke, but Olivia didn't notice. She gasped, her hand going for the small golden cross hanging around her neck.

"Madre Dios," she muttered, blinking away sudden tears. It was all making so much more sense. The acting out, the depression... Tomas's outburst last night. "Maria Walters?" Olivia spoke suddenly, terrified beyond measure. Jim and Luke exchanged a startled look, which was enough of an answer.

"Did she have something to do with that?"

"Uh," Luke cleared his throat. "We can't really give you that kind of information, not in this moment. You don't need to know the details of what happened."

"The hell I don't! My brother is obviously traumatized by whatever he saw and that woman... that woman was at our house yesterday!" Olivia jumped up from her seat, suddenly not caring that her colleague hasn't arrived yet.

"My god, is Tomas in danger? We need to go. I need to see him!"

"We will take you to him Olivia, don't worry. He's safe." Jim put his hand on her shoulder and gestured towards the seat. "You need to calm down and let us explain everything, alright?"

Olivia reluctantly sat back down and waited, her hand reaching into her pocket for the phone. All she wanted was to call Tomas, to hear his voice, but by the serious looks on the two faces in front of her, she knew there was more she had to know.

"Talk."

The detective quirked an eyebrow at the command, as it was usually his line, but didn't comment.

"Last night your brother called Marcus Keane and he came to your apartment to talk to him about what he saw." Jim started, thinking that telling the truth as much as possible was the best way not to get caught up in the lies. Olivia frowned at hearing Marcus's name. So her brother went through something so traumatizing and he was more willing to talk about it to a complete stranger? And where did Marcus Keane even come into the picture? Was it before or after what Tomas saw? Every bit of information just brought up more questions and her panic rose.

"When Marcus was about to leave, he and your brother got ambushed and kidnapped."

The phone fell from Olivia's fingers, clattering on the floor. She didn't even notice, her hand went to her mouth to stifle the startled gasp.

"It's okay," Jim quickly reached out, taking her other shaking hand in his. "They're both okay now. Peter called us and we were able to locate them quickly. I won't go into details as I don't want to scare you unnecessarily. The main thing is that we managed to get them out with barely a scratch."

"Thank god," Olivia sighed, then rubbed at her face as something wet trickled down her cheek, only belatedly realizing it were tears. "Where... where is he now?" She knew she should have asked after Marcus too, and Peter as he was responsible for the rescue, but all she could think of was her little brother going through hell.

"He's with Peter and Marcus. They're on their way out of the city."

"W-what?"

There was a moment of silence during which Olivia's confusion changed into anger and fear.

"What do you mean? Why isn't he at the police station? Or a hospital? And where are Marcus and Peter taking him?!"

It was Luke who raised a placating hand this time, although he was a bit intimidated by Olivia's rage.

"That's the tricky part, Olivia. The crime that Tomas witnessed... it involved some important people with connections. Those people want him dead, as was evidenced by the kidnapping." At that, Olivia paled and wavered, but Luke continued. "Because we aren't sure about all the people involved... the safest thing right now is for Tomas to leave the city. Peter is a good friend of mine. He's ex-military, he knows how to keep Tomas safe. And you as well."

"M-me?" Olivia stuttered, her mind still stuck on the thought about Tomas having been kidnapped. "Why would I be in danger?"

"Because Tomas cares about you. Look Olivia... the people who are behind this probably don't know yet that their plan didn't work out. But as soon as they learn the truth, they'll come after you, to get to Tomas. We can't allow that. So we need to get _both_ of you out of the city."

Well, that was making sense, though Olivia couldn't find it in her to appreciate it.

„How... how can I leave? Where would we go? I have work and school and-" She knew she was panicking, but just the idea of leaving the city she was born in, the only place she knew and that offered her at least a partial sense of security was scaring her to death. Her mind was already going through her bank account and she knew there was nothing to spare. Maybe two hundred dollars hidden under the pillow for the really dire emergency situations, but nothing that would allow her and Tomas to leave town. Olivia found it hard to breathe as panic took hold of her, so it took her a moment to realize Jim was there, pushing her back to the seat and telling her to calm down and breathe.

It was ridiculous. She _was_ breathing, there just wasn't any air entering her lungs and oh god she and Tomas would end up homeless in some strange town and being hunted down by killers!

Suddenly there was a paper bag pushed against her face and Olivia took in a startled breath, her thoughts stopping. She stared wide eyed at Jim, who had one hand on her wrist and the other holding up the paper bag. He was showing her how to breath in and out, his gestures exaggerated but as Olivia focused on them the words coming along were becoming clearer. The dark spots on the edge of her vision vanished in few minutes and with clarity came embarrassment.

"I'm sorry. I don't know... don't know what happened," she muttered finally when her breathing returned to normal. Jim just gave her an understanding smile.

"I'd wager to say it was a panic attack. Nothing surprising given the news you got. Are you feeling better now, Olivia?"

She nodded, although it was questionable. Once her body's thirst for oxygen was quenched, the nagging thoughts about future returned. Jim must've seen the fear in her eyes though, because he squeezed her wrist in an attempt to bring her back from it.

"Olivia, talk to me. What got you so scared?" he asked a bit unnecessarily, and Olivia couldn't help but roll her eyes because really. Wasn't there enough to be scared of?

"Future? I... I don't know what to do. I can't leave my job, how can I take care of Tomas?"

"Well, for starters, you won't be alone."

"What do you mean?"

Olivia felt like she was too slow on the uptake and Luke probably thought the same as he nervously looked at his watch, but at least he didn't comment.

"Marcus and Peter will help you. Due to recent events, they'll have to 'go into hiding' so to speak along with you."

"Oh." Olivia blinked, because she couldn't even imagine what it meant, truly. "I... I'm sorry," she sighed and shook her head. "I can't seem to think straight right now. I just... I just need to see Tomas."

Jim nodded and even Luke seemed relieved. Just then the door opened and all three of them jumped, startled. Olivia couldn't stop the yelp coming out of her mouth. Jim positioned himself in front of her, clearly set on protecting her with his own body and Luke already had his gun trained on the newcomer.

Which happened to be a young man, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a sandwich in the other. At the sight of the gun he froze. Everything went still for a second, until Olivia realized it wasn't some killer, just her colleague.

"Pat! Oh my god, I'm so sorry. It's okay, detective. It's just my colleague," she said hastily and the atmosphere went from deadly cold to just slightly chilly as Luke lowered the arm with the gun, though he didn't holster it yet.

"What the hell?" Pat stuttered, still unwilling to take a step closer. He actually looked ready to bolt towards the door, to hell with the job.

"It's okay, Pat. I just... need to leave now. Personal issues. Thank you for coming."

Pat nodded slowly and finally decided to move towards the counter to at least put down his food. He was still eyeing the two men with suspicion and Olivia hastily added an explanation that they're from the police, just to make sure Pat wasn't about to sound an alarm. Luke and Jim let her talk, standing a bit further away, trying to appear as unthreatening as possible. They were ready to step in if 'Pat' started giving too many questions, but Olivia seemed to have it under control. Jim was even impressed at how quickly she spun a story about her brother getting in trouble and needing to be picked up. When Pat just growled at her explanation and told her this would cost her more than just an hour of overtime and Olivia said of course, anything, Jim had to turn around to hide a smile. He knew very well that Olivia wasn't coming back, which probably meant Pat will have to work his ass off for a few days until they find someone else to fill her job.

In a few more minutes, after Olivia gave Pat a quick rundown on their guests, she grabbed her stuff and they stepped out. Luke headed out a minute earlier to 'check the perimeter'. He and Jim both came in different cars and that was also how they were planning to leave. Olivia was happy that she got to ride with Jim, as he seemed a bit more approachable. As they sat in the car and Jim started the engine, Olivia realized she had no idea where they were heading.

"Wait... where are we going?" she asked as Jim pulled out of the parking lot.

"Out of Chicago. We'll meet up with the guys at a stop rest off the highway."

"Right now? I mean, I need to pack. I can't just leave without anything!" The panic returned to Olivia's voice and Jim saw her reaching for the door instinctively, though he knew she wasn't stupid enough to try and get out of the moving car.

"Olivia, your _life_ is in danger. We don't have time to pack," he said, even though it seemed to be a bit hypocritical. After all, both Marcus and Peter got the chance to grab the most important things.

"Is... is this just for a few days?" Olivia asked, already expecting the answer.

"I don't think so," Jim admitted with a sigh.

"In that case, I need to go home and pack a bag. I can't leave without getting my papers, documentation, what little money I have. Family photos and medicine. Please!"

"I don't think you'll be able to use your papers, Olivia. We'll have to get you new identities."

Olivia blinked, shocked by the thought, but she didn't let it deter her.

"I still need to get at least Tomas's health records. You can change the name or whatever, but please... he has health issues. I can't leave without those."

Jim clenched his teeth. He knew Tomas's health 'issues' might've been caused more by God than by an actual illness, but he didn't know the kid's history. And it was true that their lives would be turned upside down. If there was something that could ease that, they should give them the chance.

"What's your address?" he asked a bit dejectedly and Olivia gave it to him with a repeated thanks.

"Don't thank me yet. Luke will probably kill me for this. I'll give you fifteen minutes, nothing more."

"Thank you," Olivia said once again with a soft smile, already thinking about where was Tomas's spare bag, while Jim called Luke to inform him of the change of plans. As expected, Jim got an earful for taking such stupid risks, but in the end Luke relented.

They arrived to the apartment building in record time, mostly thanks to the early hour and lack of the morning traffic. If Olivia managed to stick to those fifteen minutes, Jim thought, they would get a chance to leave the city before the traffic became bad.

Per their agreement, Luke was to stay in the car and monitor the situation, while Jim and Olivia went upstairs. Jim didn't mind, though he would've felt better if he had a gun of his own instead of just the knife, but he got rid of his weapon as soon as he left the army and joined the church.

Jim also cursed at himself as soon as they entered Olivia's apartment. He knew Tomas and Marcus were kidnapped there, but he didn't expect to find the hall in disarray. Olivia's hand went to her mouth as her eyes took in the sight of fallen furniture, dirt on the carpet, but most of all the few streaks of blood leading from the hall to the door.

If she had any doubt about Jim's and Luke's story, it evaporated the moment she saw the blood. The sight of it however drove home that the kidnapping was violent and she spun towards Jim angrily.

"There's blood!" she snapped, a bit unnecessarily. "Is it... Tomas?"

Jim inclined his head.

"Could be. Both he and Marcus were knocked out and had some head wounds. But both have hard skulls and when I checked them over, they were fine."

"And how would you know? Are you a doctor?" she bit back angrily, already thinking of everything that could go wrong with a head injury, especially for someone who was already suffering from seizures.

"I was actually an army medic, so yes, I'm pretty sure," Jim answered softly, then pointed at his wristwatch. "Fifteen minutes, Olivia," he reminded her. With a huff, Olivia spun on her feet and rushed towards the bedroom.

Jim gave her five minutes to get her bearings, but when he heard no movement from the bedroom, he decided to step in. Olivia was standing in front of her bed, a mostly empty bag spread on the blanket and a lost look in her eyes.

"I... I don't even know what to pack. How... how do you leave behind everything you own?"

Jim shrugged.

"That's easy. Anything you can buy, you leave here. You take cash, family jewels, personal items that matter to you. Everything else is just garbage."

Olivia blinked then gave a nod and went for her closet. She grabbed one of each item of clothing, her comfiest running shoes and threw them into the bag. Next she took all the documentation she thought might be needed, a small photo album and two small trinkets which belonged to her mother. Then she left the bedroom and went into Tomas's room. She packed a bit more of his clothes, threw in a book or two, a photo of Abuela he had on the nightstand. She also did a quick search under the bed and mattress, unsure what she would find. No porn, just a small box, holding more trinkets that meant nothing to her but were probably important to Tomas if he was hiding them. She threw it on top of his bag, along with a 'piggy bank' with some money Tomas had stashed away then went to the living room.

"We can leave," she said, suddenly resolute and itching to be on her way, to finally see Tomas. But something wasn't right as she quickly noted. Jim was on the phone and even as he spoke, he turned off the light in the room and went towards the window, looking down at the street.

"Okay, I'll call you back in five. Let me know if he makes a move," Jim said and ended the call, his eyes not leaving the street below.

"What's wrong?" Olivia asked and this time her voice shook with fear.

"Looks like we have some company."

"Oh God... I'm so sorry!" she apologized, her look going to the front door as if expecting it to burst open any second. Jim finally looked away from the window.

"No, it's not your fault. I should've known. Never mind. It's too late to assign blame. We need to figure out what to do."

"Can't... can't we just leave through the back?" she asked nervously and Jim seemed to think about it. The problem was their car was in the front, though if they haven't noticed Luke yet, he could probably pull up the car to the back.

"We could. But..."

"But what?" Olivia frowned. She could see that Jim was thinking about something different and she wasn't sure if it should make her more nervous or not.

"This is actually a good chance to buy some time for Tomas. It might just be a bit risky."

"What do you mean?" Olivia didn't like to think about anything risky. She wanted to be safe. But most of all, she wanted Tomas safe and if there was a way to help with that, she would at least give it a chance and listen.

"Luke says it's just one guy, probably one of Maria's lackeys. I doubt he will try to attack us, especially until we meet up with Tomas. He'll want to follow us to them."

"But you said we could buy them some time?"

"Yes. If we let him do just that."

"Follow us?" Olivia frowned, though she quickly realized what he meant. "You want to lead him on a wild goose chase? Head the other way?"

Even in the darkness of the room, Olivia saw the wide smile on Jim's face.

"Exactly. So, what do you say? Are you up for a little road trip?"


	19. Chapter 19

Sleep eluded him. Despite the fact his body was screaming for rest and Tomas managed to actually fall asleep, it didn't last. His mind was a whirlwind of images and colors and they were competing for the most gruesome picture. It didn't help that Tomas's stomach churned in pain. He didn't know if it was just the worry about his sister, the stress of everything that happened in the last few hours or if he was actually sick from whatever it was that invaded his body during the ritual. Tomas had to swallow several times and resort to some shallow breathing to calm down his stomach, even though he knew there was nothing to bring up anymore. Yet he was perhaps even more scared that if he tried, it would be inky darkness pouring from his lips.

Tomas's heart thumped wildly against his ribcage and he fidgeted on the backseat, stilling only when Marcus turned and asked him if he was okay. Tomas grunted a non-committal reply and forced himself to relax. While Marcus's concern would've been otherwise appreciated, right now it just made Tomas feel all the more guilty.

"Let me know if you need me to pull over, okay?" It was Peter this time and Tomas bit into his bottom lip to stop the growl.

_'Why are you being so kind when I fucked everything up?'_ he thought but didn't dare to speak. Instead he pulled the blanket higher over his shoulder, trying to get lost in the warmth. Even with the heating in the car turned on, Tomas was still chilled.

"Anyone mind if I turn up the radio?" came the question and Tomas would have just about hugged Marcus for that. If he wasn't feeling so damn bad.

As there were no arguments, Marcus turned on the radio and found a local station playing some country. He turned the volume down so it was just a background noise, but Tomas didn't mind. He tried to focus on the songs instead of the images flashing in front of his eyes. He almost managed, but once again sleep dragged him down and he was back in the closet with a young man covering on the ground, sounds of gunshot ringing painfully loud, followed by a woman's scream, then nothing but silence. Tomas blinked and the closet vanished. He was back in the warehouse, tied to a chair and looking at Marcus. Marcus, who just had his arm cut open, the blood dripping to the floor in slow motion. One drop, two drops... Tomas's eyes followed the trajectory to the puddle that was growing on the floor. Bright red puddle... but with each drop the color of it changed, became darker and darker and Tomas couldn't pull away his eyes. The red became black and suddenly it wasn't a puddle anymore, it was a cloud hanging over Tomas's head, reaching out towards him, forcing its way inside, and staining his soul with unimaginable darkness...

Tomas was chocking. He couldn't breathe and there was something on his face, smothering him. A distorted male voice was singing about Mary Jane and there were two other voices, calling his name, but everything was coming from a distance and Tomas thought he was dying.

There was a lurch and Tomas's body rolled forward with the momentum, only to be stopped by hands. Everything came to a halt. For a second nothing existed, just his lungs screaming for air. Then the thing smothering him was pulled off his face and once again hands were grabbing at him, shaking him, pulling him up.

There was a slap and Tomas's eyes snapped open at the sting on his cheek. The shock of it however caused him to take in a big gulp of air. His lungs seized and Tomas took another breath, while trying to orient himself. He was sitting in the car, and Marcus was right there next to him, the open car doors an evidence of his haste to move.

"Tomas?" Marcus asked, eyes wide and worried, voice a bit choked. Peter was leaning back from the driver's seat, eyeing them both with concern. Tomas couldn't take it anymore. Not the concern, not the nightmare... not the churning of his stomach. He scrambled and pushed past a surprised Marcus. Tomas's feet hit the pavement and he stumbled, unsure of where he was. There was a road but there was also an embankment and grass... Tomas stumbled forward, pushing away the hand that tried to help him. As soon as he reached the grass he fell to his knees and leaned forward, retching. Nothing was coming up but bile. No blackness, no blood. Tomas closed his eyes in relief, his hands clutching at the tuff of grass so hard he pulled it out, but he didn't care. Feeling the dirt under his fingernails was preferable to feeling blood.

Finally, the heaving stopped, his body figuring out it was useless and Tomas sat back, utterly spent. All he wished for right now was a shower. He wanted to wash off the grime and dirt and the stain. He wanted to rub off his skin until it stung and become red, but clean. Most of all he just wanted to fall asleep without the threat of the terror he saw.

"Here. Rinse, spit, then drink." It was Marcus once again, offering him a bottle of water. He didn't try to touch him this time and Tomas felt oddly hurt by that until he remembered that he didn't react so well to Marcus's previous attempt.

"Thanks," Tomas muttered a bit sheepishly and reached for the bottle with shaking hands. Their fingers brushed and Tomas felt the warmth seep into his fingertips. He lingered, somehow unwilling to cut the contact. Marcus must've realized that, because there was warmth in his eyes and he gave Tomas a small smile, before reaching out with his other hand and putting it steadying on Tomas's shoulder.

Tomas nodded another thanks and moved the bottle to his parched lips. He followed Marcus's advice about rinsing then took a few small sips.

"You good to go back into the car?"

"Can we just... take a minute?" Tomas asked, trying to breath in the fresh air, but then he jumped as a car sped by. "Never mind. Let's... let's go back."

Marcus nodded and somehow awkwardly they both got to their feet. Peter was also out of the car but it wasn't just to help them out. He held a phone to his ear and was listening to the caller with a frown on his face. Tomas noted the grimace on his face but it was schooled the moment Peter saw him looking at him. Few more words were exchanged by the time Tomas and Marcus reached the car. Tomas sat on the backseat, feet still on the pavement, listening.

"Okay, yes. I understand. Give me a sec."

Peter pulled the phone from his ear and looked at them.

"It's Jim. He picked up Olivia and they are headed out of the city, but need to take a small detour. Which means we won't be waiting for them but continue to the cabin. Olivia should meet up with us tomorrow or the day after."

"What detour?" Tomas frowned, his worry once again rising, even though he felt relief at hearing that Olivia was okay.

"Jim just wants to create a false trail so to speak. They're heading south, we're going north. That should give us a bit more time to get off the radar."

"But are they _safe_?"

"As safe as any of us right now, kiddo," Peter said with a sigh. It didn't bode well with Tomas. He knew Peter wasn't telling him everything, he could see his aura swirl in worry, but as Tomas couldn't discern a specific fear, or rather nothing 'screamed' at him, he let Peter off the hook for now. His priority at this moment was his sister.

"Can I... can I speak to Liv?" Tomas asked and felt deep gratitude when Peter actually smiled and handed him the phone.

"Just remember, no details in the phone, okay?" Peter reminded him and Tomas nodded quickly only to be allowed to take the phone.

"Liv?" he spoke, his voice suddenly shaky.

"Tomas! Thank god! Are you okay? I was so scared when those men showed up. Please tell me you're alright?" Olivia blubbered, not letting Tomas get a word in edgewise. He had to laugh but was taken aback when it came out sounding more like a sob.

"Tomas?" this time Olivia's voice was small and worried and Tomas cursed himself. He didn't want to make her worry even more.

"I'm fine, Liv. I swear. I'm just... happy to hear you, is all," he said, trying to smile and he had to rub at his eyes because they were suddenly filling up with tears. He didn't even care that Peter and Marcus were watching him, though they were at least trying to do it inconspicuously and from a few feet back.

"You don't sound fine," Olivia protested and Tomas could just imagine the pout on her face. He shook his head and sniffed, then cleared his throat.

"I'm okay, don't worry. I just... want to see you. To know you're safe."

There was a momentary silence that put a frown on Tomas's face.

"Liv? You're safe, right?"

"Yes," she hastily said, then sighed. "We just need to take a detour. I want to see you too, Tomas. Need to make sure my little brother is alright." There was a smile in her voice and Tomas closed his eyes.

"Is Jim treating you okay?" he asked and heard a snort.

"He has been nothing but a gentleman. Now that other guy could use a bit of tact, but I suppose gruffness and bluntness comes with the territory of being a cop."

Tomas could hear a snort from the background and knew that his sister was probably making a face. Somehow the small banter eased his mind.

"Tomas, Jim is making gestures at me to cut this short. But I promise I'll call back soon, okay?"

"I'm sorry Liv, for all of this," Tomas blurted out and there was another silence on the other end. It made him think that maybe Olivia had already hung up.

"You have nothing to be apologize for, Tomas. Nothing. Do you understand?" she said and her voice was steady and strong. Tomas could only swallow down the lump in his throat.

"I really do, Liv," he whispered, but Olivia didn't take well to that.

"No. You can apologize to me for not telling me sooner and explain everything once we meet. But nothing of what happened is your fault, do you understand? I'm not blaming you."

And Tomas knew she meant it with her heart. Even if he thought she might change her mind once they were back together and she learned the truth, or well, whatever they decided to tell her, right now she meant every word. Tomas didn't have the heart to argue anymore.

"Yeah, I understand," he said and heard a relieved sigh.

"Good. I love you, little brother. Don't ever forget that. See you soon."

"I love you too, hermanita," Tomas said, then added a wistful "see you soon".

When the call ended he looked at the suddenly silent phone, lost in thought, until he saw movement. Peter was there, taking the phone from his lax fingers and Marcus squeezed his shoulder.

"You okay?"

Tomas just sighed then shook his head. He was as far from okay as possible but there wasn't much that could be done for that.

"We should get moving," Peter spoke and Marcus nodded.

"Do you want to try and go back to sleep?" Marcus asked Tomas and Tomas looked at the bunched up pillow and the blanket that now lay on the floor of the car. It was the blanket that he pulled up too high and in his nightmare mixed it up with the smothering presence. A shiver run through his body and Tomas shook his head.

"I'd rather not," he said and Marcus nodded in understanding.

"In that case would you mind if I joined you on the back seat? I think there's some loose spring in the passenger seat that makes it a bit uncomfortable to sit on," Marcus said with a smirk and Tomas knew he was lying out of his mouth, but somehow, he didn't care. The thought of Marcus being this close made the chill in his bones grow more distant. And maybe being so close Marcus could even stop the nightmares.

"Y-yeah, sure. Plenty of space here," Tomas nodded and scrambled inside, offering Marcus a spare pillow and the blanket. Marcus took the pillow and with a groan and some fidgeting found a semi comfortable position. Peter started the engine and they were back on the road, the radio still playing country. Several minutes went by and as the car's motion caused Tomas's eyes to slip closed, he found himself jerking awake repeatedly. It was maybe the third time when Peter ran over a small bump and Tomas jerked that Marcus just sighed gruffly and made a 'come here' motion. Tomas blinked, unsure what the older man meant. Marcus rolled his eyes, repeating the gesture and Tomas realized blearily that the man was offering his shoulder to sleep on.

"I don't want to hurt you," Tomas muttered but he was already moving.

"Please. You're too scrawny to cause any damage. And I'm used to my shoulder dying on me when Peter's heavy head chooses it as a pillow."

"My head is not heavy," Peter protested from the front and Tomas chuckled.

"Oh right. Heavy is the head that wears the crown... in which case, it is mine," Marcus smirked and Tomas relaxed against the bony shoulder. A minute later as his eyes closed once again he felt himself sinking down and his head hitting a pillow on an equally bony legs. This time when Morpheus came for him there were no dreams and no nightmares, just blissful darkness.

* * *

Whatever distraction Jim and Olivia presented, it must've paid off, Peter thought as he parked the car in front of the cabin. For a moment he just leaned back in the seat and let out a relieved sigh. They were safe, at least for the moment. With only a few small stops he spent almost twenty hours behind the wheel and he was worried that getting out of the car might pose a slight problem. It was also the middle of night and the other two passengers were softly snoring on the backseat. Having Marcus sit there obviously helped Tomas. Either that or the kid was simply too tired to stay awake. Except for two bathroom breaks and to eat a measly sandwich Tomas spent the whole ride asleep.

Peter felt almost bad for having to wake the two up, but he couldn't imagine the car seat to be more comfortable than a bed. And frankly, all of them were in a dire need of a shower. Peter turned off the car radio and turned to the back, gently tapping on Marcus's arm and making an internal note to change the bandage as soon as possible.

Marcus opened his eyes and gave Peter a sleepy smile, then grimaced as his body became aware of the cramped position he was in and the weight of Tomas's head on his legs. He also wasn't looking forward to moving.

"Darling, we are home," Peter said and winked and it was such a normal thing to do that Marcus couldn't help the snort. Which in exchange made his body shake with laughter and Tomas grunted, protesting at the sudden movement.

"Ah, do you want to wake up the sleeping beauty or shall we just carry him inside?"

"As much as I enjoy seeing Tomas drooling on you, I doubt either of us is physically capable of carrying him right now."

Marcus had to admit Peter was right, so he gently shook Tomas's shoulder.

"Rise and shine, Tomas," he said, running his fingers through the thick dark hair, pausing over the bruise on the forehead.

Tomas scrunched up his face and with another groan and a mutter of something eerily similar to a curse he finally opened his eyes. Then blinked, clearly confused.

"Marcus?" There was surprise in his eyes and it sent instant worry through Marcus, but he schooled his features.

"Yeah, who else would it be? I know I don't look my best, but try to look less horrified. It's hurting my feelings."

"Huh?" Tomas blinked, then his eyes swept around, making out the interior of the car and finally noting Peter gazing at him from the front seat.

"What... what's going on?"

Peter and Marcus exchanged a concerned glance, though Peter shook his head, mouthing 'give him a sec' at Marcus.

"We arrived at our destination. Do you... do you remember what happened?"

Marcus didn't know why Tomas shouldn't remember. True, he spent most of the ride asleep, probably a mix of the concussion and the general weakness caused by whatever Tomas did to purge the demon, but the few times he was awake he knew perfectly well what was going on. Especially since each time he kept asking to talk with Olivia.

Tomas closed his eyes and pushed his fists into his eyes, then let out a sigh.

"Yeah," he said finally, sounding much older than his age. "I remember."

Though he definitely looked like he would've preferred to forget and Marcus couldn't fault him for that.

"Okay, guys. I'm sure you've enjoyed the ride, but I'd just about kill to get out of this car and get a decent shower. Ready to get out?"

"Hell yeah," Tomas said, perking up at the mention of shower. The trio left the car, accompanied by the sounds of groans and popping joints. It sounded like a group of old people stretching and it was such a weird thing in the silence that surrounded them that they all started laughing.

Finally upright and standing on his own two feet, albeit swaying a bit, Tomas had a chance to look around. Well, as much as one could look around during the night in the woods, when the only source of light were the stars, moon and the headlights of the car pointed at the door of the cabin.

He wanted to ask a myriad questions, like where exactly were they, who did the cabin belong to. Were they safe here? Or the more mundane ones like did this place even have electricity or were they stuck in the middle ages? But the only thing that made it through his lips was a question about Olivia.

"Did she call?"

"About two hours ago. They finally ditched the tail. Jim switched the cars and they were about to take a wide detour towards us."

"Is it safe for him to drive that long?" Tomas asked with a worried frown while Peter pulled out a large chain of keys and started rifling through them.

"I'm sure Jim knows what he can handle and what not, don't worry," Marcus said.

"I'd still like to call them and speak with Liv," Tomas insisted and Marcus nodded. He knew the kid would be pacing the floor all night if he didn't get a chance to make sure his sister was still alive and unharmed. He didn't fault him, especially not after the news they heard from Luke.

It seemed that during the last twenty four hours a lot had happened in Chicago. Some of the information they gathered from the radio and the news while they were still close enough. About three hours into their drive, when even Marcus got tired of listening to country and Peter changed the channels to the news station, they heard the story about a fire on the southwest of Chicago. One of the warehouses caught fire. It was suspected that the fire was intentional, especially as there was an unconscious man found nearby. At the time of the news there was no word about fatalities, but both Marcus and Peter knew that come morning and the fire was quenched the investigators would find two burnt bodies with bullet holes in them. Marcus just hoped that Luke did a good job at taking care of evidence and that the fire took care of all the rest. It was enough that some people from the church were involved and probably hot on their trail, they really didn't need the cops to be added to the mix.

The more interesting news though they learned only during Jim's last call. He was keeping in touch with Luke and so was informed about the sudden change in investigation. As soon as the police identified the alive but unresponsive man that was left in the car in front of the warehouse, they got the connection to father Simon, who was later found inside the warehouse. What was more interesting though was that a little anonymous bird tipped the cops off identifying the man as someone who was seen at the scene of the mass murder of those families, shortly before they were killed. While of course the police didn't have any hard evidence, this was the best clue they got in quite a time. As the people in the affected community became more and more restless and were staging protests, the police decided to investigate. Father Simon's death led them to the school where they searched the premises. They didn't find much, except a couple of vans used for supplying the school kitchen with groceries and driving the dirty clothes/bed sheets to the cleaner. The vans didn't look all that suspicious, except for the one with the broken tail light and the partial plate number, which was caught on one of the cameras fleeing the scene of murder.

Marcus wasn't sure what transpired next, Luke obviously wasn't privy to all the information and it was still too early. But there was a mention of a request for deeper search permit, and Maria Walters being taken in for interrogation. Marcus was pretty sure that if he turned on the TV in the next few days there would be news about some sick ritual killings. Maybe even theories about the school being used as recruitment center for a cult. Frankly, Marcus didn't care at this point. As long as the school was closed and all the people involved were too busy trying to save their own asses, well, so long Tomas would be a bit safer.

And seeing the kid bickering with Peter about who had dibs on the shower, even if it turned out to be a cold one, made him feel immensely grateful that at least here God decided to step in and give a helping hand. Marcus wasn't sure what made Tomas special or more worthy of help than poor Gabriel, but as long as God knew and was willing to fight with them, Marcus decided not to question it.

 


	20. Chapter 20

The scream tearing from his throat turned into a choked off sob as Tomas bolted up in the bed, cold sweet running down his face, whole body shaking and lungs struggling to get in some air. Tomas blinked almost owlishly, trying to figure out what it was exactly that caused such terror to course through his body, but just like for the last three days he came up with blankness. Oh, he remembered the feelings clearly, but the images kept hiding in the shadows.

Tomas swallowed down the feeling of nausea, willing his stomach to settle. Last thing he wanted was to rush out to the bathroom and throw up. With his luck it would wake up either Marcus, Peter or worse, his sister. As he didn't want a repeat of all the worried looks from yesterday, Tomas focused his eyes on the window, hands firmly gripping at the damp bed sheets to steady himself.

'Deep, slow breaths,' Tomas repeated in his mind like a mantra. That was what Marcus told him the last time and seeing as it worked, Tomas gave it a try. After several minutes the nausea seemed to settle along with his heartbeat and Tomas sagged, closing his eyes and lying back down. But that was the wrong thing to do.

The damp bed sheet clung to his skin uncomfortably, bringing forth a familiar feeling of being wrapped in darkness, his mouth and nose covered, unable to breathe...

Tomas hastily crawled out of the bed and looked at the blankets as if they personally betrayed him. With a frown, he ran a hand over his sweaty hair. He cringed, feeling disgustingly dirty. He needed a shower or maybe ten, but he was wary. Last time he went under the shower he came out with boiling red skin. In his haste to feel clean he rubbed his skin almost raw, first under too hot water, then under ice cold as the boiler ran out. When Olivia saw him he got chastised like a five year old and Tomas clammed up. He was happy his sister was safe with them, but the problem was she didn't know the whole truth of what happened. Hell, no one really knew all the details, not even Marcus so how could Tomas explain the need to clean himself?

At least this time he managed to wake up without a scream, or if he made some ruckus it wasn't loud enough for the others to wake up, seeing as no one was bolting through his door.

Still, the shower had lost his appeal, just like the bed and chance of more sleep. He wasn't sleepy anyway, not after spending most of the last three days resting, either on the couch in front of the hearth or on the swing outside. No, he needed to move, to push the thoughts and feelings as far away as possible.

Glancing back at the window Tomas realized that the sun was actually coming up. His watch showed him it was little past six am. Maybe he could just go out for a quick run, to clear his head, before the others woke up. They were surrounded by woods and there was no one around at this time of the day anyway.

Once the thought of a run slipped into his mind Tomas couldn't be stopped. He quickly changed his clothes and silently slipped out of the cabin, feeling a bit like a prisoner trying to escape, but there was also the strange jolt of adrenaline. For the first time since they arrived Tomas felt physically okay and he craved some independence. He felt like everyone was stepping around him carefully as if he was going to break any second. While he appreciated all the care they were showing him, having someone ask him how he was feeling every ten minutes was just a bit too much. The concerned glances Olivia was throwing him since she arrived were stifling and it didn't help that Marcus also looked worried and on the verge of saying something.

When Tomas asked the second day what was the matter, Marcus just shook his head and gave him a placating smile. At the time Tomas didn't have the energy to pursue the matter but he knew that something must've happened at the warehouse that scared Marcus. Something he didn't want to tell Tomas.

The only person who was giving him some space was Peter and Tomas was strangely appreciative of that. Peter seemed to be keeping his distance, mostly because he was busy getting in touch with some of his contacts and trying to figure out their next steps as well as keeping an eye on the current situation in Chicago. Of which Tomas was purposefully kept out of, which was just another thing that annoyed him to no end.

With all this on his mind, Tomas didn't feel the least bit guilty about leaving the cabin without a note about his location. There was something freeing about slipping out just as the sun was peeking out between the trees, the summer air still crisp but with the hint of the oncoming warmth. Tomas paused a few feet from the cabin, taking in several deep breaths. The air here was fresh, smelling of the woods and pine trees, an earthy smell accompanied with a touch of water. The birds were already chirping and the sky had that purplish orange tinge as the darkness gave way to light. Tomas thought it was perfect, even as he set out on the path that led to the lake. It was like a siren's call and he found himself running faster and faster, until the path gave way to the blue surface of the water.

Tomas was out of breath by the time he reached the lake, his body unaccustomed to the run after several days of rest.

He stopped at the sight of the serene view. The path from the cabin led to a small beach filled with pebbles. There was no pier, just a straight entry into water. The lake wasn't large, nothing compared to Michigan, but it took up the length of at least six large swimming pools. There were trees circling the whole length of the lake with the west part of the lake being adorned by a bush of cattails between which several ducks rested.

Tomas saw the lake only once since they arrived, shortly before Olivia came. Afterwards he was too busy being mothered to come here. He tried to remember if Peter said anything about swimming, if the water was clean enough for that or how deep the lake really was, but his mind drew a blank. In the end, it didn't really matter. As far as Tomas saw there was no algae making the water dark green and he was a good enough swimmer to be able to cross the lake without the need to reach the bottom and rest. As for the cleanness... maybe some cold lake water could get rid of the dried sweat on his skin and the feeling of ghostlike touches enveloping his body like a deathly shroud.

Without much thought, Tomas took off his clothes, all but the underwear and waded into the water. The first cold touch sent shivers through his flesh, but after several strokes the temperature of the water became refreshing, almost comfortable. Taking a deep breath Tomas dunked his head underwater then resurfaced, sputtering a bit but also smiling like an idiot. Yes, he could get used to this.

By the time someone broke through his peaceful escape, Tomas had tired himself with swimming across the lake several times. Now he was just resting, lying on his back, for the moment letting all the tension bleed out of his body as he watched a lonely bird circling above him.

"Enjoying a bit of morning swim?" sounded from the shore and Tomas sighed, knowing his moment of peace was over. Turning, Tomas looked at the newcomer and was a bit surprised that it was Peter. As far as he knew Marcus was usually the first one awake. As he made his way towards the shore Tomas voiced his thought and Peter arched an eyebrow.

"Who says he wasn't? But seeing your bed empty and unable to find you in the cabin he thought it was paramount to wake the rest of us up as well, so we could search for you." There was a bit of a reproach but also amusement in Peter's voice as he made himself comfortable on a nearby tree stump. Tomas paused in the water, his face blushing a bit.

"Sorry. I didn't want to worry you. I thought..."

"You thought you would be back before we awoke," Peter finished when Tomas stopped.

"Yeah. Something like that."

"I figured. It is easy to lose track of time here, I know that from personal experience."

"Uh... are Marcus and Olivia still looking for me?" Tomas asked, uncomfortable at the thought, even more at what he knew Olivia would tell him for making her this worried.

"Marcus went down the other path toward the clearing and Olivia stayed at the cabin, in case you returned. But I texted both of them as soon as I saw you here, so... take your time."

"Thanks," Tomas said, letting out a sigh of relief. „I'll just... do another round if it's okay?"

Peter nodded and Tomas set off, burying his head in the water as he crossed the lake then turned back a little more slowly. He was half expecting a disparaged Olivia and Marcus standing on the shore by the time he returned, but there was only Peter, watching him easily. Only as Tomas came closer did he note the slight set of tension in his shoulders.

Tomas didn't really want to leave the water. If he could he would stay there for a few more hours. But his skin was already shriveled and the moment he slowed down his swim he felt coldness creeping in. Biting the bullet, he headed to the shore.

"Here. It wouldn't do for you to catch a cold now," Peter was handing him a fluffy towel and Tomas paused. He hasn't noticed it before, though he wasn't really paying attention.

"You were so sure I was going to be here?" he asked a bit surprised but at the same time thankful as the air hit his wet flesh and sent him shivering.

Peter just shrugged.

"I figured either you be here or I'll have to go back and try to figure out where you went."

"Oh," was all Tomas said as he dried himself and dressed, only then noting the bandage he still had around one of his wrists was soaked through with lake water. He cringed and his hand went up to his left eyebrow. The butterfly bandage was gone as well. "Damn."

"Yeah. Swimming might not have been the smartest idea," Peter noted as he reached out and took off the bandage from Tomas' wrist, inspecting the wound. It was still an angry red color, a livid reminder of what happened.

"Sorry. I forgot," Tomas said as he pulled back his wrist and sit down a few feet away from Peter. It was funny, but not in the ha-ha way, that Tomas indeed forgot about the physical wounds his kidnapping brought on. How could he so easily forget the only visible wounds, when all the invisible ones were festering inside his mind, fresh and throbbing?

"Some things are easier to forget than others," Peter spoke as if reading his mind and Tomas looked up, frowning.

"How..." he wanted to ask how did he know but then he noticed Peter's faraway look and realized he might've not been the only one fighting memories. As if feeling his gaze, Peter's eyes focused and this time the look he gave Tomas bore a clear sign of reproach.

"I know how tempting it is taking a morning swim in this lake, trust me, I've enjoyed more than few myself. But please, don't do it alone."

"You said no one comes here," Tomas protested quickly, the idea of staying cooped up in the cabin already driving him crazy.

Peter raised a hand to stop his train of thoughts.

"I didn't mean that you might be in danger from other people, although you can never be one hundred percent sure no one will appear. You have to be careful."

"I am careful," Tomas grumbled.

"Of others, maybe. But what about yourself?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tomas frowned. Was Peter implying that he would hurt himself?

Peter sighed then looked like he was trying to chose his words carefully.

"I just meant... your visions. Marcus explained enough about them to me to know you aren't in command of the situation when they happen. It can be dangerous enough on land if you fall or freeze at a bad moment, but... what if you get one during a swim? When there's no one around to help?"

Tomas blanched at the thought. He knew very well the feeling of lead limbs, the inability to command his body. The occasional need to scream at the horror of what he was seeing. If he was hit by a vision during a swim, he would drown before he even realized what was going on. And the others wouldn't even know if he was snatched or got lost in the woods until they found his clothes on the shore...

"I'm sorry, I didn't think-" Tomas shook his head then with a groan buried it in his knees, the images of what if too colorful in his mind.

"Hey, I'm not here to reprimand you. I'm pretty sure Olivia or Marcus will do that once we get back," Peter said, trying to alleviate the mood but only getting another groan of desperation from Tomas.

"Can you maybe not tell them?" Tomas looked up, half begging.

"Sorry kid, already sent the text. Don't worry though. I'm sure if you play your cards right and throw in that kicked puppy look, they'll melt."

Tomas doubted that, knowing his sister was pretty much immune to that look by now. With a sigh, he cursed his own stupidity and grabbed a pebble, throwing it into the lake, watching as it jumped a few times before sinking.

"Was it worth it at least?" Peter asked as Tomas's fingers roamed the beach in search for another, more perfect pebble.

Tomas paused then nodded.

"Yeah," he admitted after a moment. Even if he was in for an earful, the alone time helped. "I think it was."

"Good. If you want to take a swim next time, just let one of us know that's all I'm asking."

Tomas nodded and threw another pebble. It skipped four times before sinking, creating a lot of small waves. Tomas felt like that pebble. Everything he did, however small or inconspicuous, created some trouble for everyone else around him.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Peter asked all of a sudden and Tomas realized he momentarily forgot about him, which was bit of a surprise. He usually didn't let his walls down around other people except for Olivia and maybe lately Marcus. The fact that he felt safe enough in Peter's company to forget about him was pretty telling.

"Not sure they're worth that much," Tomas uttered, then covered his mouth as a yawn broke out. Damn, but he thought three days of resting would be enough. The swim obviously took more out of him than he thought. In any case, Peter noticed.

"Didn't get much sleep last night?" he pried softly and Tomas wanted to tell him to stop but he couldn't find it in himself. How could he snap at the man who was risking his life for him? Maybe the least he could do was to give him the truth.

"Not really," Tomas admitted and sat back down, fingers playing with another pebble but not interested in throwing it away. "I mean... I slept. But then the nightmare woke me up and I just-" Tomas swallowed and shook his head. "I needed to move, to do something."

"Yeah, I was the same when I returned from Afghanistan," Peter admitted softly, giving Tomas a bitter smile. "Flashbacks are a bitch," he said then grimaced.

Tomas frowned in thought.

"You think it's a flashback? Not a dream?"

Peter shrugged.

"I don't know. I had nightmares when I slept, and I had flashbacks when I was awake. It didn't really matter what they were called though. It still sucked."

Tomas could agree with that wholeheartedly.

"Do they ever go away?"

"In time. And with some help."

Tomas looked up a bit dubiously.

"What help?"

"I was told talking about the things that bother you helps," Peter said with a lopsided grin and a shrug. "Sometimes it just needs time."

"I don't know how long I can take this without going crazy," Tomas admitted, for a moment wondering if he wasn't already crazy and this wasn't just a symptom.

"If you need to talk about it Tomas, I'm here. So is Marcus, or your sister."

"I can't talk to Liv about any of this."

"My offer still stands."

"I'm not even sure what to talk about," Tomas admitted honestly. "I don't really remember anything specific, just-"

"Just what?"

"The feelings. That's all I remember."

Peter didn't push for more and maybe that was why Tomas kept speaking, once again getting lost in the memory of the dream, or rather the lack of it.

"It's always the same and I don't know if it's a memory of what happened or just my imagination, but both options scare me to death."

If it was real, Tomas didn't know how he could cope with the thought of the existence of something so vile and plain wrong. If it wasn't, well, in that case Tomas was in dire need of some psychiatric help.

"It was just so dark and empty... like being swallowed by a black hole. It was cold and hostile, like a living being. Like something breathing down my neck but there was nothing real, nothing I could touch." Tomas unconsciously brought his hand to his lips and started worrying at his fingernail.

"I don't know what changed, just that it did. Suddenly there was a buzzing sound, like a horde of bees ready to attack. But I still couldn't see a thing."

He couldn't talk. Not in the dream, not now as a lump formed in his throat and the dream seemed to become more real.

"You don't have to tell me now," Peter spoke when he noted Tomas's growing discomfort and Tomas felt a hand touching his shoulder in silent support. He swallowed down the lump in his throat.

"That buzzing... it was just the start. It grew louder and more persistent. It _hurt_. And then there were images, flashes. Violent red and purple. There was screaming and so much pain and I wanted to scream too, but something enveloped me. It was over my face like a shroud and I couldn't... I couldn't breathe, I was suffocating. I just felt it touching my skin, seeping in. Then it pushed inside my mouth and... I never tasted anything so _wrong_. I didn't know anything could _feel_ so bad."

Tomas turned to look at Peter, his eyes wide and face pale.

"If death has a taste, it was this," Tomas said and felt the prick of fresh tears in his eyes. He could see Peter's own eyes widen in horror. Tomas looked away before he could spot the pity he was sure would appear next.

"Is that all you remember?" Peter asked, his voice surprisingly steady.

"Of the dream? Yes," Tomas said numbly.

"What about what really happened? Wasn't there something else? I mean... you _did_ stop that thing from taking over. You fought it off and we all saw it."

"It's all so fuzzy," he muttered, having trouble remembering anything from that night clearly. Even the ride to the cabin was just a blur of moments, worried glances and chest gripping fear. Yet through it all, there was that golden glow and the familiar warmth.

"Did Marcus... did he help me?" Tomas turned a questioning gaze at Peter and the man smiled.

"When we arrived, that thing... it was taking over. I've never seen anything like it," Peter shook his head, voice conveying his disbelief. "Marcus was adamant on getting to you though. He kept praying and you fought. We could see you fighting it off. There was a rush of warmth, like-"

"Like God's breath?" Tomas supplied when Peter couldn't find the right word. He was rewarded by an incline of the head.

"That's one way to describe it, yes," Peter agreed. "Whatever it was, it helped. You pushed that thing away... you destroyed it. And I think that's something you shouldn't ever forget."

„I just wish I knew how I did it... or if it was even me," Tomas said a bit despondently. He spent the last few days thinking, trying to figure out what really happened in that warehouse. He knew he drove one demon out of that possessed guy that was hurting Marcus, though it was mostly instinctive. There was the guilt lurking in the background every time he thought about that man, because he knew he practically killed him, or whatever small part was still there after the demon left. But at the time it wasn't really a choice on his part and the guilt diminished bit by bit each time Tomas caught sight of the wounds on Marcus's forearm.

"Maybe we should head back to the cabin," Peter spoke.

Tomas shook off the thoughts that were still plaguing him. There was really nothing he could do about things that already happened and there was no one to give him clear answers. Better leave it alone. After all, what was the chance he would need to repeat what happened any time soon?

Tomas shuddered at the mere thought and with a resolute sigh, pushed himself off the ground, dusting off his shorts and legs and sending several small pebbles scattering into the water. He wasn't really looking forward to facing Olivia though so his steps were deliberately slow, feet dragging, as if he was heading for his execution. Peter chuckled, but adjusted his own pace. They walked in an amenable silence until Tomas saw the cabin peeking through the trees. He stopped, waiting for Peter to do the same.

"Come on, it won't be that bad," Peter said with a smile, thinking apprehension was the reason for Tomas' sudden stop. Tomas shook his head, worrying at his bottom lip.

"No, it's not that," he said and it was obvious he was working up his courage to say something. Peter raised a curious eyebrow.

"What's on your mind then?"

Tomas muttered something under his breath and Peter frowned.

"Sorry, I didn't get that."

"I said I'm sorry," Tomas repeated a bit more loudly, eyes downcast, one foot digging into the dirt on the road. "I'm sorry for all of this," he added with a sigh and finally looked up. He wasn't sure what he expected to see in Peter's eyes. Either regret or anger, but when their eyes met there was just friendly concern and understanding.

"What exactly are you apologizing for, Tomas?" Peter asked softly and Tomas let out a huff, his arm waving around.

"This? For what happened back in Chicago to Marcus. For the fact you had to leave your home and now we are here, hiding. Just because I'm a freak that can't keep his head down."

"Hey, stop that," Peter said and crossed the distance between them. In a gesture so familiar from Marcus, he tapped Tomas on the chin, making sure he was looking up at him. "Don't call yourself a freak... and don't put this on yourself."

"But I am one! How can you not understand? Even my mother thought so. Do you know she sent me away because I told her how she would die?" Tomas blurted out, for a second satisfied by the look of shock on Peter's face, then instantly becoming scared that he did it, he finally pushed away the person that was just trying to help. Suddenly ashamed of himself, Tomas's head hunched down, his eyes filling up with tears.

"Oh Tomas, just... stop." Without warning, Peter pulled Tomas into a warm embrace. Tomas startled, his whole body tensing as if he was expecting to be hit, but after a moment he relaxed. Peter ran a calming hand over his back. "Now listen to me. I'll repeat this as many times as needed, until you get it into your thick head."

"W-what?" Tomas looked up, confused.

"You're not a freak. You are different, yes, but that doesn't mean there is anything wrong with you. It just means life probably won't be as easy for you as it is for some of your peers."

Tomas sniffed and gave a small nod. So far what Peter was saying made a bit of sense. It still didn't take away from his guilt though.

"As for the apologies... I won't accept them, because none of those things were under your control."

Tomas shook his head stubbornly.

"You wouldn't have to run if you haven't met me," he protested and pulled away from Peter's embrace. Peter let him, though he still kept his hand on Tomas' shoulder, as if worried that he would bolt and run away.

"That's a possibility, yes," Peter agreed with Tomas' statement, though he quickly added: "But then we wouldn't have learned about Maria Walters and father Simon and all the families wouldn't have learned about who was behind the murders of their loved ones. What's worse they would be still free and keep doing what they did."

"But you said the cops didn't catch everyone... that they don't know how deep this _cult_ went. And all those kids I saw in that vision... they are likely all possessed and out there, doing more wrong."

Peter sadly didn't have much to add to that. Truth was even though there were leads linking Maria Walters to the vans used during the murders, it was all circumstantial. A good lawyer and money would get the charges dropped easily. Still, father Simon was dead and according to Jim, the Church was at least made aware of the problem and was sending someone over to investigate. Peter didn't know how much good that would do and Marcus looked pretty skeptical when he learned about it, muttering something about useless pricks.

Peter sighed. There was nothing they could do at this moment, except to keep Tomas safe as long as possible. Train him, make sure he grew up to be able to protect himself. If later on Tomas decided to go and start fighting demons, setting people free, Peter was sure Marcus would be right by his side. Which meant that Peter would be there too to offer any protection he could.

"I don't have all the answers, Tomas. This whole situation is way out of my experience. All I can say is that I don't blame you for any of this. If anything, I'm thankful you came to our lives. You helped Marcus to overcome what happened with Gabriel and I won't ever forget that."

Tomas bit his lip, still shaking his head a little.

"But you lost so much because of me."

"I haven't lost anything that can't be replaced, Tomas. But I gained so much more." Peter said with a smile and ruffled Tomas' hair. Tomas didn't know what to say to that. His face felt hot and there was familiar warmth in his chest. So he simply nodded, then cleared his throat, uttering a barely audible 'thanks'.

"You're welcome. Now let's get inside. I'm getting quite hungry and last night Olivia mentioned something about pancakes in the morning."

Tomas snorted, not sure if he should warn Peter that pancakes from Olivia usually meant a kitchen in disarray. Somehow she always managed to get flour in the most impossible places to clean.

They entered the cabin together and as predicted, there was a clattering of pans and dishes coming from the kitchen area, accompanied by a settling dust of flour and a couple of Spanish swears. Tomas paused in the doorway a bit hesitant to enter the disaster area and face the music, but he felt a light push on his back as Peter followed him inside with a smile on his face.

The sight that greeted them was something to behold. There was Olivia by the stove, trying to flip a slightly burnt pancake, while Marcus was trying to sweep up the floor from the broken bag of flour that seemingly exploded over the whole kitchen. At least that was the only way Tomas could explain how Marcus' blond hair turned white and why Olivia looked like she was getting prematurely grey. Tomas couldn't help it, he snorted. Next to him Peter started to openly laugh and two pairs of eyes snapped up. The smile quickly fell from Tomas' lips as both Olivia and Marcus started in on him. Olivia about scaring her half to death and Marcus about being a bloody irresponsible fool.

He should've felt insulted, guilty or chastised. But somehow, seeing the two people he cared most for, covered in flour and giving him a good talking to like a bunch of worried parents, while the third one was chuckling so hard he had tears in his eyes made Tomas feel warm and safe and just a little too happy. Maybe there was hope and they could become a very strange kind of family. Maybe the future didn't look so bleak after all.


	21. Chapter 21

**EPILOGUE**

The engine of the boat was humming steadily and Tomas relaxed on the deck, watching as the front of the boat tore through the water, creating waves. The air was cold and he had Marcus's old jacket on, which kept him nicely warm. It was several months since they left Chicago and things have changed.

After three weeks they spent at the cabin trying to figure out their next move and waiting for Peter's contacts to work their magic, they finally got word back that things were prepared. Peter drove off on a Monday morning and returned a day later with new identities for all of them. Tomas was just happy he could keep his first name, even though everything else about him has changed. Strangely, Olivia was the one to accept the changes the easiest. It seemed that not having the weight of the world on her shoulders to bear alone let her relax. So they packed up, got in the car and drove further to the North West, until they ended up near Seattle. Their plan was clear. Stick to one of the smaller islands, preferably near the Canadian borders so they could leave the country quickly if needed.

Peter was the first to find a job. It was no wonder. He had the most experience on the job market from all of them and the clearest idea of what he wanted to do. With his PhD in marine biology he got the job in the Fish and Wildlife service. The best perk of the job was the boat and the amount of freedom it gave him. Away from his job of selling marine tech to fishermen, Peter was for once fully enjoying being out on the waters himself. As a bonus, there was a smaller need to interact with people, definitely less need to try and talk folks into buying stuff they can probably do without.

Olivia tried to look for a job on one of the surrounding islands as well, but nothing seemed to fit and Tomas knew that despite everything, Olivia really missed the life in the city. Or the chance to finish school. At first, she was okay with it, but the longer she spent on the island, the more she started focusing on Tomas and their whole situation. It made things just a bit difficult.

As father Simon had revealed, the demons were quite aware of Tomas. So until Tomas and Marcus figured out a way to make him somehow less 'visible' or make sure he was able to spot any danger first, they decided keeping Tomas away from heavily populated areas was the smart thing to do. Tomas didn't mind, really. It just meant less of a chance of getting a vision. He was still trying to deal with everything that happened back in Chicago and sometimes even the presence of his newfound family felt a bit too stifling. He couldn't even imagine going back to school with the need to look over his shoulder constantly.

That's why it was decided Tomas would be home schooled by Marcus. What the man didn't know, the internet could teach and Peter assured him that he would be able to get his GDE. Not to mention Marcus could prepare Tomas more for what was to come if he decided to return to normal life, find a normal job in the future.

Tomas knew he needed to be prepared. The nightmares reminded him of it quite often. Which was perhaps one of the reasons why he was actually happy that Olivia decided to return to school. While he harbored some doubts and fears about her being away, Tomas was also happy for his sister. She worked hard all her life and the last year or so wasn't easy on her. Their mother's passing left a mark, almost as deep as their bad financial situation. So getting the chance to have some of that worry taken away from her served as a balm on Olivia's rattled nerves. While she still had to find a job to help along with her studies, right now she only had to take care of herself. The baggage that was Tomas had fallen off her shoulders, even though she would've never phrased it like that.

It wasn't an issue that was lightly taken anyway. Olivia took her time deciding to leave Tomas with Marcus and Peter. At first she didn't want to hear about it.

"You're my brother, I'm responsible for you! I won't leave you again!"

But as the days turned into weeks and Olivia could witness the way Marcus and Peter fussed and cared over Tomas even more so than herself, she relaxed. She saw the love and the strange but working family all four of them created. When it was Tomas who asked her if she was planning to become a housewife, she glared at him. Tomas shrugged, looking at the breakfast he had on his plate.

"Just asking. If so, maybe you could try and learn how to cook?"

That earned Tomas a smack with the kitchen towel and a muffled chortle from Marcus, who tried hard to look as if he didn't hear a word. The next day, instead of a burned breakfast, Olivia had out her laptop looking through schools and scholarship options. Tomas had to admit, he was proud of himself.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Marcus leaned over the railing right next to Tomas, handing him a cup of hot tea, freshly poured from the thermos. Tomas accepted with a smile and took a sip.

"Are you sure you have a penny to spare?"

"Sure I do! Didn't you hear? I just sold one of my paintings," Marcus said with a proud smirk and Tomas rolled his eyes, though he was grinning as well. Of course he knew. It was the reason for this little trip. Marcus had to stop by the city to collect his check and while Tomas stayed on the boat during the transaction, afterwards Peter promised them a nice boat ride along the neighborhood islands. So here they were, Peter pointing out his favorite coves and telling them interesting tidbits about each island.

"Are we going to actually land on one of those or did you pack some food?" Tomas asked as his stomach gave a loud growl. He couldn't help it. It was past three in the afternoon and he had just hit a growth spurt. He was hungry all the time it seemed.

"Darling? The boy is asking if we are planning a wine and dine or let him starve to death."

"Well, there's a pack of saltines stashed in the emergency supplies, or you can grab the fishing rod and try to catch our dinner," Peter called from the helm. Marcus made a face.

"You heard the man. Eat the saltines or starve. I'm not hungry enough to take up fishing."

Tomas smirked then shook his head.

"Guess I'll starve then. Tell my sister I loved her and it's all your fault."

"Such a drama queen," Marcus snorted but made his way towards Peter. "I'm afraid if we don't feed him soon, he'll call Olivia and accuse us of torture. Is there any place we can grab something to eat?"

Peter mulled it over then adjusted their course a bit.

"Yeah, why not. I'm starving myself and after all, we wanted to celebrate your first sale. I think I can splurge for some Mac and cheese." Peter pulled Marcus towards him for an embrace and a kiss, but Marcus grimaced.

"Blasphemy. I don't kiss unless there's wine involved."

"Ew, stop," Tomas made a face and turned away, though he was smirking. Those two romantics would drive him crazy one day. He was looking forward to the moment he fell in love with someone this much and could rub the fact in the guys' face. He would totally gross them out with his signs of affection... that is if he ever found someone like that. Tomas doubted it.

But he didn't want to think about the future, near or far. Right now everything seemed perfect. He was doing well, the nightmares had lessened in frequency so most nights he even managed to get a decent amount of sleep. There were no visions since that faithful day and Tomas was slowly starting to hope that maybe that was it for him. Maybe that's where it ended and he was finally free of the burden.

He took another sip of the tea, trying to ignore the gentle bickering behind him. He spotted the island where Peter turned their boat and even from the distance he could see the restaurant near the shore. There were only two people sitting outside, though it might've been from the colder weather rather than bad cuisine. Tomas's stomach rumbled again and he was wondering if there was a chance of getting some good burgers or a pizza at a place like that. Then he started to wonder how far away they were from the island with their rented house. Suddenly he was overwhelmed by the urge to return home, to snuggle up on the couch in front of the hearth with a good book.

Tomas shuffled on his feet, feeling a familiar and very unwelcome tension crawling up his shoulders. The smile slipped from his face, replaced by a frown as he squinted, watching the approaching island. When his stomach churned this time it wasn't from hunger but from trepidation. Something was wrong.

There was a lonely figure standing on the dock. Tomas didn't know how he didn't notice before. It was a woman, with long red hair flailing in the wind. Their boat was close enough that he could discern the look on her face. She was smiling, but that didn't put Tomas's mind at ease. If anything it made the fear in his insides intensify. Because there was definitely something wrong with her. There was a permeating darkness staining her skin, creating a terrible looking halo. It was a familiar sight.

That inky, crawly darkness Tomas last saw when he was tied to a chair and thought he would die. He could almost feel it back on his tongue, the tangy taste of blood and rot and pure evil. Tomas felt his stomach clench, fingers going lax. The cup with tea fell from his fingers, clattering off the floor and rolling down into the lake where it vanished underneath. Tomas didn't even notice. He didn't notice Marcus and Peter turning to him, calling his name. He didn't notice Marcus pulling him away from the railing and helping him to sit down, while asking frantically what was wrong.

Tomas couldn't let his eyes off the dock, the woman standing there in a light summer dress. Or the darkness that was reaching its tendrils out towards him hungrily, whispering. There was a flock of birds taking sudden flight and circling over the boat, but Tomas didn't see them. His mind was thrown into the turmoil of a vision, images of violence and pain flashing with terrifying clarity. Things that happened, things that were waiting to happen... a dark promise of the demon occupying the island. A warning to keep away.

Tomas's eyes rolled back into his head as his body went lax then tensed in a jerky movement of a seizure. He didn't hear Marcus calling at Peter to turn the damn boat, or the familiar words of prayer that followed. The only thing that existed was the island and its gory history, all laid out in front of him in a grotesque picture burned inside his mind.

It wasn't until the island vanished from sight that Tomas's body stopped seizing. It took a bit longer for him to open his brown eyes, unfocused and wet with tears. Tomas's lips moved but his voice was too weak. Marcus leaned closer, one hand running through Tomas's hair soothingly.

"What are you trying to say?" Marcus asked, his voice shaking but full of relief upon seeing Tomas awake.

"We need to stop it," Tomas whispered.

"Stop what?" Marcus frowned.

"The evil on that island."

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the end of my longest story to date :) I hope you enjoyed the read. I want to thank to everyone who commented or left kudos, you made my days so much better! I still can't find the proper words for some of the amazing comments you left me, so just.... thank you! <3   
> As I was tempted to write a sequel, I'd like to ask you what answers do you think the story lacked or where it should go now. I have some ideas of my own, but would love to hear from you:)


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